Another Life
by Taylor Robinson
Summary: A metahuman tracks down Team Flash for help learning about and controlling her gift. She joins the team and finds herself falling for Harrison Wells - what will happen when he begins to fall for her too? Follow as she explores her gift and her feelings for Harrison...twice. OC/Wells-Eobard and OC/Harry Wells. Story begins between 1X06 and 1X07. Expect spoilers as it progresses.
1. Chapter 1

"Hello?" I call into the lobby, which is now crumbling and deserted. The lights that aren't burnt out flicker sadly. "Hello?" I try again. I'm at STAR labs having finally worked up the courage to search for answers. I know the place isn't completely deserted because I've seen movement on the satellite images. Maybe I happened to come on a day everyone is out.

But, no one stops me, and there aren't any signs warning of danger, so I head deeper into the lab, exploring hallways and peeking into darkened laboratories and offices. This place seems even bigger on the inside. I wonder where everyone went - what were the fates of everyone who worked here? How did they pick up their lives after the accident? How did they live with their mistakes?

"Hello there," a mans voice calls out. I was so deep in thought, I start with surprise, whirling around to face the speaker - none other than Dr. Harrison wells.

"Hi, Dr. Wells," I say a little breathlessly. He's waiting at the end of a corridor. I walk over to lessen the distance between us.

"Hello. I don't believe we've met."

"No, we haven't. I just know of you from, well," I gesture to the empty lab around us.

"Ah, yes," he says with a small sigh. It's a gesture he seems familiar with.

"I'm Mika," I introduce myself, finally remembering my manners.

"Pleased to meet you." He's much more charming than I thought he would be. He has so much presence and spirit that the wheelchair seems to disappear. "But I doubt you came all this way for pleasantries."

"You're right, I didn't. And I don't want to waste your time, so I'll get right to the point." I swallow and take a deep breath. If I'm wrong about this, I might be locked in an asylum. And if I'm right, I might be locked up as a science experiment. "I know you've been working to fight super humans, and I need your help." His eyebrows shoot up for a split second before he regains control over his expression. His eyes narrow slightly as he speaks, his silky voice sending a shiver down my spine.

"I believe you are operating under some misinformation, Mika. I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about." He answers calmly, coolly. Almost too composed. If I had just been accused of working with super humans, I'd be blustering. Granted, he doesn't seem like the blustering type, but… I tap into my power, feeling a surge of energy in my veins, and then I focus on Dr. Wells. I get nothing more than a stiff block, a true wall of unreadability. But that reveals something and of itself. This is a man with secrets.

"Really? I don't believe you," I tell him softly, leaning forward to lessen the distance between us. "You don't seem like the type of man to run from your problems," I say, realizing too late what I said. "Sorry, poor choice of words," I add.

"Don't worry about it," he brushes it off.

"My point is, you're still here. There must be a reason for that. Your life's work, this lab, it's still in ruins. But you're still here. And satellite imaging shows that there's considerable activity in this facility. And yet, no repairs, no great public pronouncements of scientific breakthroughs. You brilliant scientists must be working on _something_ in this giant, state of the art facility. Something...important," I add. I can feel him growing more interested in me by the second. He crosses his arms and leans back, the gesture of man accustomed to power.

"And why does that concern you, Ms. Mika?" I shrug and my tongue darts out to moisten my lips.

"Like I said. I need your help." He peers at me, taking off his glasses in a thoughtful gesture. All I can focus on is how his eyes seem startlingly more blue without his glasses.

"Very well. Why don't you come in, and we can talk more comfortably."

"Thank you," I answer, following him deeper into the facility. We travel in silence until we reach a gently curving hallway that leads into the only room I've seen that's been illuminated.

"Gang, meet Mika. Mika, meet my team, Or, what's left of it, rather." The three young people in the room - all about my age - greet me with a mix of confusion and wariness, but upon a look from Dr. Wells, immediately shift their behavior to be more warm. I suspected the man had a commanding presence, but the respect and trust of his employees still surprises me. He's quite the alpha male, I'm realizing.

"Cisco Ramon, nice to meet you," a cute-ish young man introduces himself. With each introduction, Dr. Wells explains their background and expertise.

"Mr. Ramon came to work for me on the particle accelerator project. He's a very brilliant young man. This is Doctor Snow, biochemist and a gifted doctor."

"Dr. Wells is too kind," a beautiful woman greets me. She looks awfully young to be a doctor, but that just impresses me more.

"Pleased to meet you," I tell her.

"And this is Barry Allen," Dr. Wells introduces me to a handsome, tall young man.

"Hi, Barry," I say.

"Barry was struck by lighting from the storm the particle accelerator generated. We took him to STAR labs after the incident to help nurse him back to health."

"I see," I answer, figuring some response is required of me. I examine the man before me with my gift. He is nervous, on edge, uncertain. Nothing I couldn't have assumed. But I wonder why he is so nervous. If Barry was affected by the blast as well, maybe he too has powers.

"Dr. Snow, if you could join Ms. Mika and I in the examination room," Wells asks.

"Certainly," she answers immediately. It seems there is a deep connection between these two. I wonder if they were ever romantically involved...I stop that thought before it can distract me. In the medical side room, I take a seat on the table.

"Ms. Mika, why don't you tell us a little more about what brought you here," Wells says. I nod and begin my tale.

"Since the night of the particle accelerator explosion, I have been...different." I tread slowly, testing their reactions before proceeding with more details. So far, they're unphased, increasing the likelihood I was right about them working to battle the other super humans. "I can...do things that I couldn't before."

"What sort of things?" Dr. Snow asks gently.

"I can...sense things." I planned my speech out so carefully, but now that I'm here, with Dr. Wells peering at me so closely with his sharp blue eyes, I seem to have forgotten it all. "Things about people that I have no business knowing and no way of knowing."

"Are you saying you're a psychic, Ms. Mika?" Dr. Wells says. Hearing it outloud from him makes me realize how crazy I must sound.

"Not exactly," I am quick to correct. "It's not anything so precise. But I get these feelings, these strong intuitions, for lack of a better word. For example, I was in a store the other day, and I just got this feeling, this strong alarm, that something bad was going to happen. I hurried out, and, I found out later, a few minutes after I left, the store was held up at gun point. Or, I went on a date with this guy, who I had never met before, but I just _knew_ all this personal information about him before we started talking, like when his last relationship had ended, what he was looking for, even what he thought of my shoes, for godsake. And I understand that this may sound crazy, but if I'm right about what it is you all have been doing here, you've probably heard a lot crazier things lately." Dr. Wells and Dr. Snow seem to exchange a glance, wordlessly reaching an agreement.

"You're right - we have heard crazier. It is possible that you were affected by the blast. We have developed ways to test if this is the case. We will need a blood and DNA sample from you," Dr. Snow answers. I feel a wave of relief wash over me. Not only am I not insane, but I might finally get some answers about what is happening to me.

"Alright, thank you." I tell them both. I'm sure they have higher priorities to deal with, so I appreciate them helping me even though I just walked off the street. I lean back on the medical cot while Dr. Snow gets to work. Dr. Wells leaves us to chat with the others.

"How long will the results take?" I ask as Dr. Snow prepares a tissue and blood sampling kit.

"Not too long - about fifteen minutes from preliminary results, an hour to analyze fully...if nothing of a higher priority comes up," she adds, somewhat mysteriously. I raise an eyebrow at her, but she just gives me a shy smile and focuses on her work. No doubt, they are seeing if I can be trusted before revealing too much information.

"Have you met many people like me since the explosion?" I ask, mostly as a means to distract myself from the blood about to be drawn.

"A few," she answers somewhat cryptically. "Make a fist," she tells me while feeling for my vein. I take deep breaths and close my eyes, looking past her to distract myself. My eyes land on Dr. Wells, who is talking in low tones with Barry. I know immediately that they are talking about me - I don't need this gift to tell me that. I hope they will trust me, will help me find answers. I am dying to tell someone about this, someone who will understand and be able to help me control this.

"All done," Dr. Snow says, breaking into my thoughts. I sigh with relief and press the bandaid to my arm.

"Great. Can I leave you my contact information so you can let me know if you find what you're looking for?"

"Sure. You're welcome to stay as well, it really won't take long."

"Oh." Her offer catches me off guard - everyone has seemed secretive since I got here, I didn't think they'd want me sticking around. "Are you sure?" She shrugs.

"Yeah, nothing big is going on right now. And, if your results come back the way we think they will, it would be good to have you nearby, so we can get started learning more about these changes right away." I nod, swallowing hard. I remember that I have much more to fear from them than they do of me, but I haven't had any indication of danger since I've been here.

"Well, I'm not going to turn down the chance to fangirl at STAR labs," I joke.

"We don't have too many fangirls left, these days," she says with a smile while carrying my blood sample to a machine.

"Yeah, I guess I'm a little more forgiving than most. And the stuff you guys were working on...so cool," I add.

"It really was," Cisco says, joining the conversation. "If you'd like, I can show you around." There's something decidedly flirty in his manner, but I ignore it for now.

"That'd be awesome, thanks." We head out of the main room and down the curving hallway.

"How long have you been with STAR labs?" I ask him while he shows me their different labs and specs for what were planned projects.

"About 4 years now," he answers. "Why such an interest in STAR labs? Are you a scientist?" he asks.

"Not really - but I try to keep up with the latest breakthroughs," I answer while peering into one of their (now empty) state of the art laboratories.

"'Not really?'" he repeats. "How can someone be 'not really' a scientist?" he asks, friendly. I laugh at myself.

"I guess that doesn't make much sense. I technically graduated with a science degree - in ecology - but it wasn't science like you do here."

"Science is science - don't sell yourself short," he tells me seriously.

"Thanks, Cisco." I'm touched by how sincere he was. He nods once and then keeps walking, his jovial manner back. He's about to show me their electromagnetic isolation room, but we are interrupted by Dr. Snow making an announcement on their intercom system.

"Mika and Cisco, could you join us back in the cortex?"

"Sounds like we've got some results. Ready to see if you're a meta human?" he asks excitedly.

"Meta human?" I question while we head to the elevator.

"It's just what we're calling them - those people with powers."

"Hm. I like it," I decide.

"Sweet," he answers under his breath. I get the feeling this was a term Cisco invented - and that he's very proud to have outside approval.


	2. Chapter 2

Back in the main room - the cortex, I suppose it's called - my palms start to sweat as I wait to hear what Dr. Snow has to say. If I was wrong and I wasn't impacted...I'm going to be so damn embarrassed.

"Well, Mika, you were right - you were affected by the explosion." Behind Dr. Snow are a few computer screens showing images of what look to be microscope slides.

"How do you know?" I ask - relieved to have been correct in my assessment but also afraid of what this might mean.

"People impacted by the explosion have dark matter in their DNA - you see here?" She points to a section of the screen showing a computer rendition of a DNA double helix and explains how my DNA has been altered.

"So, this blast, it impacted me at a cellular level?"

"Yes," Dr. Wells answered, his deep voice only somewhat calming my racing mind.

"So, what impact could this have, health wise?" An awkward silence meets my question.

"To be honest, we don't really know." Dr. Snow eventually answers. "We're working to figure that out. Some meta humans that we've run into, their DNA alteration was much more profound, and it impacted them physically."

"Yeah, there was this guy who could make a bunch of clones of himself, and a man who could turn himself into poisonous gas," Cisco stops suddenly, being cut off with a glance from Dr. Wells.

"Sounds like you all have met more than just a few of these 'meta humans'," I say.

"Arguably, yes," Dr. Wells answers.

"You're one of the first who wasn't trying to kill us though," Barry chimes in.

"That's...interesting." I didn't realize how dangerous this has been for everyone. I take a closer look at Barry. "What do you do, Barry?"

"I work for CCPD as a CSI." I nod, absorbing that information.

"But what's your power?" I ask casually, as if it was no big deal. He scoffs.

"Cisco, c'mon man, what'd you tell her?" Barry asks.

"What? Don't look at me, I didn't say anything," he answers hurriedly.

"I'm sure Cisco didn't say anything, Mr. Allen. I think we've gotten a taste of how Mika's meta human ability works." I nod once. I hope I didn't cause offense - perhaps they have rules about not using powers on others.

"Oh." Barry sizes me up. "I guess if I know your power, you can know mine. I'm fast," he answers.

"Fast like the Streak fas-" I stop myself before I even finish my question. My own brain answered it for me. Now it's my turn to size him up. "Super cool," I answer.

"Thanks. So, we're only just beginning to know how my powers work - do you have any idea how yours do?"

"Not really. I have a couple hunches, but I'd rather let you all look at the science without any preconceived notions, so I'll keep them to myself for now, if you don't mind."

"Very wise," Dr. Wells says, moving closer to me.

"What were you doing at the time of the explosion?" Dr. Snow asks, pulling up a file on her computer with my name on it to record this information. I feel myself coloring a little.

"I was undergoing hypnosis - I know it's largely pseudoscience, but I find it helpful." Thankfully they are sensitive enough to not ask any follow up questions as to why I was undergoing hypnosis.

"Caitlyn, why don't we run some more tests on Mika - get an MRI and some brain wave analysis. Assuming, Mika, that you have the time to stick around?"

"Yeah, I took today off. Y'all have an MRI machine here?" I ask.

"As you said, STAR labs is very state of the art," Wells answers with a hint of friendly teasing.

"You can come with me, Mika," Dr. Snow says while gathering a tablet. I follow her to a more complex medical laboratory where the MRI room is located and all sorts of other medical instruments.

After my battery of medical tests are done, I return to the cortex alone while Caitlyn spends time analyzing my results. Dr. Wells is no longer there, but Barry and Cisco are, and they show me some of the new Streak - or Flash - as Barry prefers - technology they invented. Seeing his suit is by far the coolest thing.

"That's bad ass," I remark as Barry zips into it in the blink of an eye. I admire it while Cisco explains some of the many features.

"So, what can you do with your powers?" he asks.

"Oh, nothing as cool as what you can do," I start."I can sense things. Like when someone is lying or if something bad is about to happen," I try to explain.

"Precog," Cisco mutters.

"Pretty sure that's copyrighted," I joke, making them both laugh.

"Okay, okay. Human lie detector?" He tries. I wrinkle my nose as Barry and I both shake our heads. An alert on the computer interrupts this painful brainstorming session.

"Let's focus on that later, Cisco. There's a robbery going down at 12th and Waterford," Barry says, zipping over to the computer and then immediately out the door. Cisco takes a seat at a computer, pulling up security camera footage in an instant.

"Whoa, how'd you do that?"

"Oh, it's really quite simple. All security cameras transmit at the same frequency, so then it's just a matter of-"

"Another time, Cisco. Right now I need you to talk Barry through how to navigate to the armed robbers," Wells interrupts. I stiffle my disappointment. Wells and Snow both take seats at computers while Cisco pulls up the building plans.

"Whoa, how did you do that?" I ask Cisco. Wells gives me a stern glance. "Sorry, some other time," I say with a depreciating smile. I hang back in amazement while the team talks Barry through the building layout, allowing him to surprise the bad guys and help the cops put them behind bars. He zips back to the cortex, an absurd amount of takeout in hand.

At my raised eyebrows, Caitlyn explains, "Barry's metabolism is sped up too, and when he runs, he burns a _lot_ of calories." I nod, absorbing this information.

"Makes perfect sense. But I do hope you plan to share," I add after smelling the egg rolls.

"Naturally - I am the hero after all," he says with a winsome smile, making me laugh. As we eat lunch, Caitlyn talks through some preliminary results.

"Here, you can see your brain wave analysis - do you see how there are Delta, Theta, Alpha, Beta, and Gamma waves active all at once? That _shouldn't_ be possible, not layered like this. And do you see how every so often, they all match up to crest at once?" I nod thoughtfully while she pauses to take a bite.

"That alone definitely indicates something abnormal going on, but take a look at your MRI." The screen changes, and it displays all sorts of areas of my brain lit up. "This is what your brain looks when it's resting." I notice all three areas of the brain are active to different degrees. A second image appears on the screen, and the colors are much more subdued. "Here's what the average brain looks like while resting. There's not nearly as much activity going on," she explains. " _And,_ here's your brain when I asked you try to tap into your power."

"Whoa," I say without meaning to as the image appears on the screen. The image is so illuminated with different degrees of activity, it looks like a psychedelic painting. Beside me, Dr. Wells shifts his gaze to me.

"Fascinating," he says quietly.

"So does this mean that my...ability," I say with some hesitation, "comes from the different areas of my mind being able to work together, perhaps communicate with more clarity than others can?"

"At this point, that's my hypothesis," Caitlyn says.

"Given what you told us about what you were doing when the blast struck you, the explanation does make a lot of sense," Dr. Wells says. I nod, absorbing this information. I had suspected as much myself. "The implications of this, Mika, are amazing. If this power comes not from any external source, but is just the abilities that can be unlocked from the brain - the human brain - communicating with itself...it's remarkable." I fight to contain the smile that threatens to break across my face at his praise. I'm also rather pleased to have garnered his attention. In his mind, I may have even replaced Barry and the most interesting thing in the room, which I would imagine is quite a feat.

"But if your powers come from just your own brain, how can you predict the future?" Cisco asks. Dr. Wells answers.

"The subconscious is a powerful thing, Cisco. It's constantly picking up on patterns and predicting what will happen next. Many studies have shown the brain can accurately predict even random events up to six seconds in the future. It seems Mika's transformation has allowed her to consciously tap into this power. Who knows what else," Wells explains. I nod.

"Ever since I noticed this ability, I've read up on all of the recorded seemingly miraculous instances of someone surviving a disaster or violence based on following their instincts." Behind me, I hear a gasp and Cisco mutters, "Instinct. It's perfect." I roll my eyes and continue. "It's crazy - there are scientists that theorize it's really the subconscious that makes all the decisions, and that the conscious serves merely as a forum for the brain to explain itself to itself." Now it's Wells' turn to agree with me.

"Thus, the implications of your gift could have scientific and medical impacts far beyond Mr. Allen's," Wells says, his brilliant eyes twinkling at me. "No disrespect, Barry," he adds as an afterthought.

"Is there any way I could refine this? Make it work more on demand, work with more specificity? Or turn it off when I don't want to use it?" I add as casually as I am able.

"If that's possible, this is the place for it," Dr. Wells answers before Caitlyn is able to. "I suspect Caitlyn and I will have to spend more time reviewing your results and studying the mechanisms of your power before we are able to give you a definite answer." I nod once, understanding.

"Thank you both. I know you must have other tasks to get to today, so I'll take my leave. Let me know if you find anything noteworthy and when I should come back." I leave my contact information with each of them and get their numbers in return.

"Mika, I'll walk you out," Dr. wells says with a heart stopping wink to emphasize the pun.

"Thank you, Doctor." As we walk, he discusses some preliminary ideas for my training.

"Do you keep a dream journal?"

"No, I haven't. I don't often remember my dreams."

"I'd sincerely suggest that you start keeping a journal. The more you write down, the more your mind will remember after you wake up." I nod, absorbing this information. "If your subconscious is trying to tell you anything, I would guess that while dreaming would be the easiest way to begin tapping into this knowledge."

"I'll do that. Thank you for your help and insight, Dr. Wells."

"You're very welcome. We'll be in touch. Thank you for coming by, Mika." As I'm halfway out the door, he calls out, "Also, be careful who you confide this information in. Not everyone is so open minded about people with your abilities. Or so willing to explore your gift ethically."

"Thanks for the warning." I didn't need him to tell me that this gift puts me in a certain amount of danger, but I appreciate that I must matter enough to him to be worth providing the caution. We nod goodbye. As I leave, I'm already thrilled by the prospect of returning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Episode 1x07 - Part I

"Again," Wells calls.

"Purple square, blue rectangle, pink...buffalo?" I'm supposed to be using my gift to guess the series of a random computer generated sequence of different shapes and colors, but a buffalo shouldn't be in there.

"Just trying to keep you on your toes," Cisco explains with a smile. I smile back, impressed - he's switching up the rules of the game to make sure I'm not just incredibly lucky.

"Fair enough. Can we take a break? Surely you have a large enough sample size by now?" They want to run statistical tests on my accuracy, but all this concentrating is giving me a headache and focusing on shapes and colors gets monotonous very quickly.

"Yes, we can stop," Wells says. I communicate my appreciation with a nod and stand and stretch. "That means you're up, Barry," he says. In the space of blink, Barry's dressed in his suit.

"Ready when you are," Barry says with a boyish grin. His energy is catching. We all head outside to a hidden section of abandoned parking lot behind the building. It's nice to be outside on this lovely spring Saturday. It's even better to be outside watching the Flash practice dodging rubber bullets and missiles, zipping around faster than the eye can follow.

"Why so much speed training? Wouldn't Barry benefit from some hand to hand combat training?" I ask the group, but I don't take my eyes off of Barry's blur.

"I'd rather Barry avoid getting hit rather than expose himself to the danger of hand-to-hand fighting. But you're right, he would benefit from some basics and tips and tricks," Wells answers. _You're right_ was not something I even dared to fantasize about Dr. Harrison Wells saying to me. My heart is beating double time. "Cisco, make a note for Barry to make an appointment with a martial arts instructor," Wells answers. "He'll have to do that on his own time though - we can throw missiles at him here, but I don't believe any of us can give him combat training." I shrug, acknowledging the point.

"How fast is he going?" I ask Caitlyn, who is monitoring the readout of vitals from his suit.

"543 miles per hour right now." I whistle softly.

"That's amazing." As fascinating as it should be to watch someone fight drones and move so fast I get dizzy just watching, after long enough just observing, I find myself more interested in my other companions. One in particular, but I'm doing my damnedest to repress my feelings for the most emotionally unavailable person in the group. So instead, I focus on observing _all_ of my companions with my gift. They're all nervous and excited to various degrees.

From Caitlyn, I am feeling a surprising undercurrent of grief. She must have lost someone very close to her - his presence still lingers on her. Cisco is feeling the pressure of challenging Barry without pushing him so far that he's in danger. But mainly he's having a lot of fun building and showing off different toys. As for Wells, he's practically buzzing with an energy that's...intoxicating. I've never felt anything like this before - it must unadulterated charisma. I feel myself drawing closer to him, fighting a very strong urge to touch him. I force myself to break off the connection, remembering myself. I don't play around with my gift the rest of the afternoon.

After a fast food lunch, the scientists present their results from the exercises this morning.

"Mika, your prediction accuracy is at a whopping 96.5%," Cisco announces cheerfully. I shift in my seat, both excited and disappointed by the number.

"So what does that mean? Obviously, there's room for improvement, but what's going wrong that's stopping it from being 100%?" I ask. To my surprise, Wells responds to my question with a chuckle. I look my question at him.

"You're a true scientist, Mika. Always looking for more information, more answers. Let's keep practicing and see what we can figure out." I nod, accepting this answer for now. "I promise you, we will help you achieve what you want from your gift. But it can't happen overnight. For now, I want to focus on finding more ways to test and explore your limits." Changing the subject, Caitlyn takes over again.

"Barry, you achieved a new record velocity," Caitlyn begins. The rest of her analysis is cut short by an alarm from the main row of computers.

"Power drain at the Petersburg substation," Cisco announces. "This could be that metahuman who killed-"

"I know," Barry answers.

"Be careful," Dr. Wells implores, but he ends up talking to the air as Barry races out. My knees buckle under me, and I find myself with my cheek pressed against the cold tile, voices shouting in the distance. I groan, sitting up while my head pounds. As the ringing subsides, the voices - those of Dr. Wells, Caitlyn, and Cisco - grow closer.

"Mika, I need you to look at me. Where are you?" Caitlyn asks, using her stern doctor voice. She's crouched beside me.

"Star labs," I answer, somewhat groggily. "Barry is in trouble. Or he's about to be," I say before I understand why, ignoring their other questions about my wellbeing.

"How do you know?" Wells asks, perfectly composed, unlike his employees who are nervously flitting around me, bringing me a glass of water and a chair.

"I just...do," I answer after some hesitation. "This man - metahuman - he's going to take Barry's powers," I say, hardly believing the words that are coming out of my mouth, but I just _know_ they are true. Everyone grows silent and still for a second before they jump into action. Wells is talking into the microphone, asking Barry for an update, Caitlyn is running analysis on his vitals, and Cisco is hacking into the security cameras. I just take some deep breaths and try to regain my bearings.

"Everything looks normal on this end," Caitlyn says just as Cisco jumps and yelps in alarm. "Nevermind," Caitlyn adds, her voice tight with fear.

"This guy just zapped Barry, and Barry's not running away," Cisco explains.

"What's going on, Barry?" Wells asks. There's no answer. We watch in confusion and horror as Barry's vitals go into what is marked on the readout as the "unstable" range. "Get out of there. Run, Barry," Wells demands. The comm line crackles, and we all tense to hear what Barry will say.

"I can't. My speed, it's gone." They all look at each other wide-eyed. Once it becomes clear Barry is out of immediate danger and is on his way back, Cisco and Wells join Caitlyn and me in the medical examination room where Caitlyn is testing my responsiveness, memory, and heart rhythm.

"How long as I unconscious for?" I ask once she's done with her examination, and I'm feeling more like myself.

"I don't think you were unconscious," she tells me gently. "You had a seizure," she explains. Beside her, Dr. Wells pulls off his glasses, looking grave as he peers at me.

"What? But that's never happened to me before."

"Epilepsy can come on suddenly. And...I don't think it's unlikely this is related to the neurological changes you've undergone recently." I nod, absorbing this. "We're going to need to keep you here for monitoring," Caitlyn says.

"What? Like overnight?" She nods. "But people have seizures all the time and are fine," I insist. I don't want to stay in this abandoned lab all night.

"Do you have any roommates?" I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but you have to stay here. We have no idea how serious this could be, and if you have another seizure and are home alone - you could fall, you could injure yourself if you're cooking or holding something sharp...you need to be monitored." I sigh but concede the point with a nod.

With a sigh, Dr. Wells speaks. "Mika, it's very important that you rest. Perhaps this was triggered by us overtaxing you." He means the words kindly, but it sounds like an insult - like I'm not tough enough or strong enough to keep up. But I swallow that reaction and nod.

"Alright." While we wait for Barry to get back, Caitlyn and Cisco set me up with a change of clothes, a tablet for watching tv, and all the snacks a gal could ask for. Caitlyn spends time going over more medical information - about monitoring my triggers if it happens again, having a safety plan, known triggers to avoid...it's so much to keep track of that before an hour ago, I never had to think about. Not for the first time, I think about my ability more as a curse than a gift.

When Barry returns, looking absolutely devastated and sick with worry, he and the rest of the team rush into the treadmill room. Me, I close my eyes and take a cat nap. When I wake, I head over to see if the gang has made any progress with Barry's condition.

"Do we think this is temporary, or…" Barry asks.

"We'll have to run tests," Dr. Wells says at exactly the same time that I say, "Yes." We both look at each other. His expression is not pleased.

"I thought you were supposed to be resting that brain of yours," he says icily.

"I'm trying," I say, letting my frustration with the situation and his response show. "But as I've said, I can't turn this off. So we might as well use what I know, right?"

"Not if it comes at the cost of your life!" he exclaims, startling everyone in the room.

"Dr. Wells, I," Barry starts before he's cut off by Wells holding up a hand for silence. After a few deep breaths, Wells speaks again.

"Excuse the outburst. But you both have been acting recklessly, impulsively, when there is so much at stake here. Not just your lives. But the lives of everyone you could save with what we could learn scientifically from you. I hope that you both remember that the next time you want to show off or act without considering the consequences. I need a moment alone," he says before leaving the room. Barry and I look at each other forlornly after being so properly chastised.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's just upset you guys put yourself in danger," Cisco says, trying to lighten the mood of the room, but to no avail. All I can think about is how the more I want to help, the more I want to gain Wells' respect, the more trouble I seem to cause and the less Wells' seems to think of me.

Barry and I sit next to each other on the treadmill, wallowing in our reprimand. Cisco and Caitlyn evacuated the room not long after Wells.

"I wasn't trying to show off," I mutter. (Alright, maybe I was just a tad. Barry's power is so cool, so helpful. I want to show I can be useful too.)

"I didn't think I was being reckless. I just do what I always do."

"Running to confront a murderer with barely an indication about their powers, let alone how to stop them? Seems a little reckless to me," I tease with a light shove. He shrugs.

"It's never been a problem before."

"If I go ask Caitlyn and Cisco about that, will they say the same thing?"

"Probably not," he concedes. "Hey, how are you feeling? When I got back, everyone was so busy trying to figure out what happened to my powers, I didn't get any details on how you were doing."

"I'm alright, I think. I had a seizure, apparently."

"What? Are you alright?" he asks sincerely.

"For now. I guess there's nothing to do about it but rest." I explain what had happened - my sudden divination about the danger he was in and my collapse and black out.

"I'm really glad you're okay. I didn't realize - no wonder Wells is so upset with both of us having close calls." I nod, but privately I'm certain that Barry is overestimating my role in Wells' concern. "I'm going to go talk to him - apologize for not being more careful. But, you said this is temporary?" I nod, doing my best not avoid triggering my power in anyway so as not to tax myself.

"That's the feeling I had, yeah." He takes a deep breath.

"Thank god." He moves off with significantly more cheer than he had when he arrived. Feeling a slight headache, I head back to the cot and take a serious nap.

When I wake up, I'm feeling very well rested.

"Oh, hey there, Barry," I notice him as I exit the cortex. He starts, moving his eyes from his suit to me. He looks forlorn.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better, yourself?" He just shrugs. He opens his mouth to say more, but Cisco walks in.

"Farooq Gibran," Cisco says.

"Who?" Barry asks. _The meta who stole Barry's speed,_ my brain tells me without prompt. Sure enough, that's who. As Cisco explains what happened to Farooq the night of the explosion, I feel my knees going weak. I reach out, clutching to Barry for support.

"He's here," I interrupt. "He wants to hurt Wells." Not five seconds later, a computer beeps, pulling up a stream from a security camera.

"Dr. Harrison Wells," he calls. "I need to see you!"

"Maybe he just came here for help, like how you did, Mika," Caitlyn says nervously. We watch as he continues to shout.

"I dunno, Mika said that he wanted to hurt Dr. Wells…" Cisco says. Farooq then opens an electrical box, pulling apart the wires and making the lights in the lab flicker before the power shuts off entirely. We hear a loud boom.

"He's inside, Barry predicts.

"We need to find Wells," I answer. "What are we going to do?" I should be afraid, but I don't feel that worried. Could it be that my subconscious knows I won't be in any danger?

"Let me call Joe. Maybe the cops can help - cause a distraction at least or scare him off." We wait in silence and the dark while Barry tries to reach Joe or, alternatively, Iris to reach Joe. "Shit, neither of them of picking up. I'll try the Captain." As Barry talks to the captain, his face grows white.

"What's wrong?" Caitlyn asks.

"Joe and Iris are being held hostage. I could _really_ use my powers right about now. Do we have any ideas of how to get them back.

"I have a theory," Wells says, finally joining us. I breathe a sigh of relief to have him with us. Now that we're all together, it doesn't seem possible that anything could go wrong. Wells and Cisco work out the logistics of possibly electrocuting Barry to jumpstart his powers.

"Well, will you do it, Barry?" Wells asks. Barry looks down then at me.

"I don't know. What do you think, Mika?"

"Do _not_ ask her that," Wells asks, his voice suddenly low and taunt. "She had a seizure the last time she used her gift, and that's the last thing we need right now." I nod.

"I'm sorry, Barry, I don't want to try to get anything. Right now, I'm not getting anything. It usually activates if something dangerous is happening, so that might mean the electrocution would be safe...but that's a big _might._ " He nods.

"I'm going to talk to him."

"No," Wells immediately orders, launching into a diatribe about how dangerous this man is. For the first time, I realize that Wells is scared.

"If you try to talk to him, he will attack you," I say.

"I have to try," he insists. "He might just need help like we did."

"Barry, I'm not playing around. I _know_ this is going to happen," I exclaim. "I can't just let you go and get hurt because you're too stubborn to listen to someone else," I snap.

"When you're at 100% accuracy, then you can tell me what to do," he retorts. My jaw drops open, shocked by his callous and pointed words. The rest of the room is stunned silent while he storms out to attempt to reason with a killer. Silently, we follow, hoping to provide backup if need be. We listen as Barry tries to reason with Farooq. I know through it all it isn't going to work, so I am standing closest to the switch that lowers the emergency blast door.

When Farooq accuses Wells of being culpable for his friends' deaths, Wells reacts with something between a flinch and a scoff. The somewhat accusatory glances of Caitlyn and Cisco don't help Wells' emotional state, I'm sure. Instinctually, I put my hand on his shoulder to try to soothe him. He looks back at me with a small appreciatory smile.

The second Barry goes flying back from Farooq's electricity blast, I slam down the lever to bring the door down.

"Caitlyn, Mika, get Barry to the treadmill." We both immediately move, not waiting for further instructions. It's a long walk to the cortex from here, and Barry isn't looking in great shape.

Caitlyn and I are working to set up the treadmill to receive the electrical charge when I stop them.

"He's coming, we need to hide - now."

"In the supply closet," Caitlyn says, and we rush into another door - though this leads to a dead end. I close my eyes, willing Cisco to hurry up with the generator. We can see the outline of Farooq at the door - hear him as he hones in on us. But then the lights flick on, and he leaves to investigate.

"Now," I whisper. We rush out of the closet, ready to transmit the charge to Barry. He gets on the treadmill, ready for the charge.

"Turn on the treadmill," Barry says.

"I can't. This could kill you. I can't lose someone I care about in this building again!" she cries.

"We don't have any time," Barry insists.

"You won't lose him," I promise her. "Ready?" Barry nods. I flip the switch, praying to whatever higher power is out there that this is one of the times I am right. The shock sends Barry flying into the wall - Caitlyn and I rush over.

"Are you alright?" she asks, pressing her hands over him to look for injuries. We watch as his hand vibrates at superspeed on and off.

Yet, he declares, "It didn't work." I shake my head, uncomprehending. It should have worked. _Psychological_ keeps ringing in my head, but I just shake it and try to focus on the moment.

"We need to get out of here before Farooq comes back. We need to be able to stay mobile - if he corners us, we're toast." They both nod. As we head out of the Cortex, we hear what sounds like an explosion. Hurrying down the hallway, we see a man thrown against the wall.

"Tony?" Barry exclaims, rushing over to him.

"Metahuman?" I whisper to Caitlyn.

"Yeah, he was dangerous, so we trapped him in the particle accelerator track. How did he get out?" she asks, mostly to herself. _Wells_ echos in my head, the answer to an asked question. I shake my head - that can't be right. As we watch, the man, Tony, collapses, dead. Seconds later, Farooq appears, and Caitlyn drags Barry away as we run. I don't know where we are going, but Caitlyn and Barry do, so I follow them. Miraculously, we meet up with Cisco in the generator room. In the quiet, Caitlyn immediately begins to draw a sample of Barry's blood while they explain what happened.

"The pipeline was designed to withstand a power outage - someone must have let him out," Cisco says. Again, my head rings _Wells Wells Wells._

"I did," Wells says behind us. We all look up, shocked. As Dr. Wells explains himself, I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. It's both disappointment that he would be so callous and an undeniable primal urge to have him inside me.

"You used him as a distraction? I have his blood on me," Barry exclaims.

"I had a choice to make - him or us. I chose us without a second thought," Wells says, his voice low and raspy. Whatever female instinctual desire this is triggering, it's powerful. I have to clench my hands to distract myself from how badly I want Wells in this moment. For some reason, the idea of Wells using me as a pawn doesn't seem so bad.

"Look, we need to move. We can't just sit here fighting," I say, trying to break the tension. And distract myself from this yearning I'm feeling for Wells.

"Barry, your cells, they're rapidly regenerating," Cailtyn announces, providing a much-needed distraction.

"It must be psychological, not physical," Wells says. That's 2 for 2 on the head echos, I note.

"Oh, you have the yips," Cisco explains, in no way helping.

"Look, we need to move," I say, leading the way. We can deal with Barry's issues after we're out safely. As soon as we make it to the garage, some instinct stops me in my tracks, but I push through it. This is the only way out, and I don't want to be separated from the others. Barry runs to the truck, but just as it starts, the engine dies. In fact, all the electricity in the area gets knocked out - even Wells' chair won't move.

Then Farooq shows up, shooting a blast at the truck Barry's in. Caitlyn rushes over, exposing herself to an attack from Farooq. I run after her, trying to stop her before it's too late, but then we're both exposed.

"Barry, are you hurt?" she asks.

"Guys," I say, voice small, as Farooq approaches, electricity crackling all down his body. I can't swallow, I can't breathe. I don't bother tapping into my gift to know if this is the end - that answer is obvious.

"Hey!" Wells calls from across the room. "You're here for me. Leave them alone."

"Finally you show your face," Farooq says, turning from us.

"No," I gasp quietly before I can stop myself, wishing there was something I could do to prevent this.

"I wasn't exactly eager to be killed."

"Neither were my friends," he answers.

"I know. I hurt a lot of people that night."

"People? You don't even know their names!" To my surprise, Wells lists off at least a dozen names.

"I know the names of everyone who died that night. I know they all mattered, and the fact that the world is now deprived of their potential is something I have to live with every day. But these people," he says, glancing at us. "These people have done nothing wrong. So you want to punish me? Fine, let's do that. But leave them alone." I have to stifle a sob. _No!_ Wells has to be okay - he has to be. I feel that he must be, but that doesn't seem possible right now.

"You died that night too," Farooq says as he zaps Wells with a jolt of electricity, and he goes skidding to the floor. "You just didn't know it until now." I want to scream, but in a heartbeat, Barry is gone, and Wells is in Barry's place between Caitlyn and I. I gasp, clutching on to his arm out of relief and fear.

In another heartbeat, Barry is back as the Flash, standing before Farooq and dodging his blasts. Then, one connects, and blue and yellow energy floats between the two men, connecting them. They drop to their knees. I watch with trepidation, helpless to intervene. If Barry loses his speed again… A few seconds later, the light fades, and Farooq collapses, dead.

"Iris," Barry breathes before disappearing.

"Barry had better not just left us to deal with Farooq," Cisco announces.

"I think he's dead," I explain, my voice sounding surprisingly small. As I turn to look at my companions, I realize that I'm still grasped on to Wells' arm. "Sorry," I say, immediately pulling my arm away. I rush to bring Wells' chair over as something to do, though my knees feel like jelly. I let Caitlyn and Cisco help Wells into his chair - I felt that was an intimate act that Wells and I were not close enough for yet. Instead, I inspect Farooq - looking for a pulse or any sign of breathing.

"He's definitely dead?" Cisco asks. I shrug.

"Probably?" Cautiously, Caitlyn kneels down to feel for a pulse. I walk back over to Wells, who, besides his wispy black hair being slightly more tousled than usual, looks fine.

"Are you alright?" I ask him in an undertone while the others inspect Farooq's body. He holds up a hand, and I see that it is trembling slightly. I want to help him, to comfort him, but I don't know how.

"I'm a little shaken up, but I am unharmed," he answers. "Thanks to Mr. Allen."

"Is this how most fights go?" I ask. I didn't realize just how dangerous their work was.

"Not at all," he says. "At least, not on our end of things." He clears his throat and raises his voice to carry across the garage. "We need to do something with Tony and Farooq's bodies."

"I can pick up some body bags" Cisco says. "And we can just put them in the cells in the pipeline."

"Won't they still smell?"

"No, the pipeline air will be filtered and vented outside," Cisco explains.

"Cisco, Caitlyn, can you help move them? I'd like Mika to rest," Wells says. They both nod, more complacent than I would be to do such a task. I guess Wells did just save their lives, and they're feeling indebted.

Me, I head to the showers, trying to wash off the tension and stress of the day. Half the things I saw today would have seemed impossible only a couple weeks ago. And now they're just...business as usual, I guess? As I redress, I kept starting at every shadow or sudden breeze. It's going to be a long, long night.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I'm watching Dora the Explorer on Netflix as I try to calm myself down enough for sleep. Caitlyn hooked me up to a heart and brain wave monitor - both of which will alert the local hospital if anything flatlines.

"We're just a phone call away," she said as she left for the night. That wasn't too much comfort - other than Barry, none of them could get here soon enough to help me if something or someone tries to hurt me.

There's a noise coming from the hallway, and I sit up, staring at the doorway, my heart pounding. When it opens, I can't help but scream before I see it's just Wells.

"Ms. Mika, I didn't mean to startle you," he says. I am sitting up, my hand pressed to my chest as I take deep breaths.

"Not your fault," I manage to choke out. "It's your lab, after all, you're welcome to do as you please. I didn't realize anyone was still here."

"There were a couple things I still wanted to finish up. One of which was that I would like to talk to you. I had some time to analyze the results of your prediction test, and I found some interesting results." I move off the cot to pull myself a seat next to Wells, painfully aware of the fact that I'm not wearing a bra. That makes me sweat almost as much as being alone with Dr. Wells does. After my lustful longing for him earlier, I'm worried I won't be able to control myself if those feelings arise again.

"You made your errors when the same shape/color combination appeared in a set more than three times in a row. Now, this is just a hypothesis, but I think that might be because your conscious was interfering with what your subconscious was telling you." I nod along, but I am only somewhat following. "Essentially, your subconscious told you one thing, but your consciousness overruled it because the answer seemed unlikely." I think about today's events - how I ignored some intuitions and warnings I received because they didn't fit with the reality I thought I knew - like where Farooq would be in the building, or dismissing that I thought of Wells as the person who released Tony.

"That makes sense. Thank you for looking for answers."

"If you're going to improve, I would work on developing your relationship with your subconsciousness. Try not to overthink things and just listen to yourself." I nod, absorbing his words."For example, you're afraid right now." It's a statement, not a question. I nod.

"I am."

"Are you feeling like there's any reason to be? Right now, in this moment - not because of things that happened earlier." I concentrate for a moment, trying to tap into any specific warning I'm getting. To my surprise, instead, I just feel calmer.

"No, I don't think there's any reason to be." He nods.

"Focus on your subconscious. For you, that's where the answers are." He looks around the cortex, his bright blue eyes almost shining in the darkened room. "Hard night to be here alone," he says. For a heart-stopping second, I think he's going to offer to stay with me. "There's a security door I can lock with my keycard - only I have access to it. Would you like me to put it down?" I nod immediately. "Alright, you won't be able to leave the room until I'm back tomorrow morning - around 6:30 AM."

"The extra security is worth it."

"Alright. And remember your dream journal," he says.

"Yes, thank you. Goodnight, Doctor. Take care."

"I will. Thank you for your help today," he replies. A few seconds after he leaves, a massive steel door descends from the ceiling. It's better than nothing - might give me a fighting chance against any intruder. I shake such thoughts from my head and try to settle to sleep, but Wells' statement keeps me up. I alternatively beam with pride and furrow my brow in confusion. He thought I helped today? After his scolding, I assumed he saw me as nothing more than an egotistical child. I'm very glad that wasn't the case. But what exactly did I do to help other than warn them of things that still happened? Other than clutch at him like a scared child, I think ruefully, remembering the weakness I showed. And I doubt I endeared myself by encroaching his personal space.

* * *

Once back at my mansion, I'm finally able to walk around again. It's such a simple joy that I used to take for granted. Kind of like my speed. Damn this ruse and my need for the energy source. I pour myself a whiskey and reflect on the day, staring up at the stars through the skylight. It really is a beautiful home. I bet Mika would like it. I catch that thought before it can go farther. I don't know what is the matter with me lately.

The more time I spend with her, the more I've been thinking about her. Her eyes, her smile, her lips, the curvature of her waist...I take a deep breath, running a hand through my hair. If I could just pin her up against a wall and fuck her brains out until her body was wrapped around mine, quaking with ecstasy, I know that would kick this ridiculous fixation on her. But, due to the wheelchair ruse, that's out of the question for now. It has been for a long time - too long. Maybe that's the problem. She's the first woman I've spent any significant time with since the "accident" who I didn't know before the accident. Without having the baseline to compare to, the wheelchair probably doesn't seem so obvious, and she can still see me a sexual prospect. For she certainly does want me, sexually. I was surprised at first, given our age difference.

I catch my reflection in the window - the reflection of the man whose DNA I stole. I run a hand over my jaw - the features so different from my own. Apparently Mika likes them - many women have - though I am not sure if it is the physical features or the air of mystery I have cultivated or the power and knowledge I hold.

It will be time, soon, for me to launch the next part of my plan, raise the stakes. _The Man in Yellow._ I wonder how Mika would feel if she was visited by him...the thought of sneaking into her apartment to ravish her makes my blood rush. But it's too risky - her gift is too unwieldy, unpredictable. I've been studying her for my own good as much as hers to try to determine the mechanisms of her gift - and how I can prevent triggering it. So long as she's around, she poses a risk. She could see the Reverse Flash and immediately sense his - my - identity.

And yet, despite the risk she poses, I've been encouraging her to spend time at the lab. Moreover, I'm training her - helping her _refine_ her gift. I shake my head. With Barry, it makes sense. I need his ability to return to my time. But Mika...if she had shown up a few months ago, I would have disposed of her without a second thought. The idea is abhorrent to me now. I need to be completely focused - undistracted - to pull this next part of my plan off. But...Mika has proved to be distracting.

* * *

Cisco and Caitlyn have been so busy running around helping on Flash cases, I haven't seen either of them lately, especially since I can only come to STAR labs after work, and there have been a lot of late nights at the PR firm these past two weeks.

To my surprise and pleasure, Dr. Wells has been putting in very long hours to help me, and we are making serious progress. He's been helping me figure out the mechanics behind my gift and be more receptive to the signals my subconscious sends me so that I'm more aware when my gift is speaking versus when it's fear or some other part of my brain. His voice seems to get even deeper at night...it certainly seems more sensual.

"Focus on the feeling, the inner sensation of your knowledge. What makes it unique? What stands out?"

"There's this...pull inside me, in my gut, when it's my gift. It's like a weight or a presence. It's the resolution of just _knowing._ " I open my eyes, almost startled by how handsome he is. It's times like these I worry if my attraction to him is somehow showing up in the feed showing my brain activity.

"Good. Focus on that - look for that feeling as we do the next exercise."

"Dr. Wells, as much as I appreciate all you've been doing so far - and it has been very helpful, there's no doubt - are you going to be able to help me turn it off?" He takes off his glasses and moves a little closer to me.

"You've asked us that question a couple times now. I must admit, I'm curious as to why you'd want to turn off something that's so helpful."

"Sometimes there's things you just don't want to know." I answer, hoping to leave it at that, but he's silent, so I elaborate. "Like if a coworker compliments you on your outfit, but you know she actually hates it. Or if some guy you caught checking you out at a bar didn't approach you because he thought you were too fat." He raises his eyebrows at that. "There's just some opinions that people have about you that you don't want to know."

"I don't know, I'd like to know whenever someone wasn't being honest with me or if they were a blind jerk," he says with a small smile, making me smile and blush a little. "But, if you want to be able to turn it off, that's your prerogative. We can try to cook up a serum or something. But I don't see how you could turn off part of your brain temporarily." My shoulders sag. To my surprise, his hand reaches out to cover mine. "But I will look," he says seriously, his eyes sparking.

"Thank you," I say, squeezing his hand once. _He wants to kiss you_ that knowing part of my brain says. I gasp, starting, inadvertently jerking my hand from his.

"Are you alright?" he asks seriously. I take a deep breath, shaking my head to clear it.

"Yes, I'm fine," I say, smiling shyly.

"Did you have a sensation?" That's what we're calling these little bursts of knowledge. I nod. "About me?" he asks softly, looking beautifully vulnerable. Slowly, I nod.

"I think so. But it wasn't - it wasn't anything important." I tell him. To my surprise, he accepts the explanation. Maybe he suspects what I sensed and thus doesn't want to push it. Someone can want to kiss someone and know that they shouldn't - we do essentially work together.

"Well, it seems like you're already in the right mindset for the next exercise." Wells runs me through a series of prediction and intuition exercises where I have to predict the next image on the screen and sense as much information about the pictures as I can. They're pictures of generic cityscapes, close up of objects, stock photos, paintings, that sort of thing.

The idea is to show me images of things I couldn't possibly know or readily identify, and I sense for information about the photographer, artist, subject, date of photograph - basically as much as I can. Wells designed this test to establish if my gift is truly a subconscious connection or if there is some external source of information I am connected to. The evidence indicates external, but the implications of that are so psychedelic, we both want more proof. In the middle of guessing the location of a rainforest picture when I get a shot of pain through my head. My hand shoots to my temple, and Wells shuts the computer screen off immediately.

"Headache?" he asks. I nod, wordless until the pain subsides, and I can breathe easily again.

"Yeah, bad one." He checks his watch.

"You made a new record, at the very least." Each night we train, I have been able to do so for longer until pain makes me stop. We've been very careful not to trigger another seizure, and to avoid one, we stop as soon as I have head pain. So I stand up and get ready to leave.

"Cisco has been working on a codename for you," he says as I'm gathering my things.

"Oh, really? What horrors does he have in store for me?" I ask with a laugh.

"Lots of variations of _instinct_ and _subconscious_ , mainly. Wavy is also currently in the running." I wrinkle my nose.

"Dear God, no," I say with mock-seriousness.

"Personally, I think Weathervane may be more appropriate - especially since there's indications you're connecting to something outside of yourself to get these sensations."

"Weathervane," I say, feeling the way it rolls of my tongue. "I kind of like that. I'm like a barometer for when shit's about to hit the fan." That earns me a chuckle.

"I saw it more as you are in tune with your surroundings and predict future events." I laugh at our different perspectives.

"I like your explanation better. Weathervane," I repeat. "I think that's a winner."

"I'll let Cisco know he can stop brainstorming," he says with a heart-melting smile.

"Brainstorm, that's not half-bad," I joke. He laughs.

"I'd leave the naming to us professionals," he teases.

"That's probably for the best. Thank you, Doctor, for your help tonight. Have a good night," I say with a parting wave. Like every time I leave, I'm tired - mentally and physically - but there's this underlying excitement that comes just from being in Wells' presence. I'm crushing hard. And tonight, I learned that my feelings aren't totally unrequited.

* * *

As I watch her leave, I let myself be captivated by the sway of her hips. Once she's out of my field of vision, I lean back and heave a sigh. The fact that she wants to turn the gift off is a lifesaver. If I can find a drug that disrupts her gift - with her consent and help - that will be a useful tool for when the Reverse Flash makes appearances, especially since the mechanism of her gift has proved to be more elusive than I expected.

Sometimes she draws upon it consciously, sometimes subconsciously. I think about how she reacted when I touched her tonight - that was an example of a subconscious alert. What she divined is beyond me, but she's either an incredible actress or it was not anything too revealing about my identity. She acted more...flustered afterwards. She must have sensed my attraction to her. That's no matter - I haven't been trying too hard to conceal it. If she likes me enough, I can hope her consciousness will ignore any negative information or warnings her subconscious tries to give her. But tonight, it's time to work on that drug.

* * *

1x09

"Hey guys," I greet the team as I enter the Cortex. There's someone I haven't seen before - an African American man in a suit.

"Oh, Joe, this is Mika. Mika, this is Detective Joe West," Barry introduces me. There's a tension in the room I wasn't expecting.

"Nice to meet you, Joe," I say while shaking his hand. _Barry's adoptive father,_ I note. "What's going on with you all? We have today off since Christmas is this Monday, so I wanted to see what y'all are up to." Joe exchanges glances with the rest of the team.

"It's okay, Joe, Mika is a metahuman too," Barry says. "She can sense things, predict things." He nods but doesn't seem to comprehend. "It's actually great you came, Mika. We need help on this case," he begins to explain, but I hold up a hand as I receive a rush of images - a swirl of red and yellow lighting, a young boy, a crime scene, a trial, Barry.

"There's another speedster, he killed your mom, and now he's back?" I ask. Joe looks both a little freaked out and impressed.

"That's the gist, yeah," Barry says. I can immediately sense that he's in a bad mood - no mystery as to why. I nod, pulling up a seat while they discuss the recent development - that this man broke into Mercury Labs. As Wells pulls up the photo of Dr. McGee, I know immediately that she and him have a history. I steal a glance at Wells from the corner of my eye, curious what that story is. The others begin to devise a plan to trap the man using this Tachyonic prototype.

"Mercury Labs is one of our clients," I say, trying to contribute something useful. "They're very private about what goes on inside their labs. I doubt they're going to want the police involved with this - especially if it's about such promising research."

"Might be difficult to get them to hand the prototype over to us in order to set this trap," Detective West says.

"We can talk to her. If she doesn't want to budge, I think we can come up with a way to convince her," Wells says with a wink at Barry. "Cisco, Caitlyn, we need to start engineering a trap." They both nod, setting off with a decided purpose. Barry and Joe get up to head back to the station.

"Anything I can do to help?" I ask Wells once we're alone.

"Not that I can think of, but I will let you know if that changes."

"I could try to sense any information about this mysterious speedster," I offer. He shakes his head.

"We don't know anything about this man or his abilities, and I don't want him to come after you. Frankly, I'd rather you stayed as far away from this as possible." I'm surprised by his concern.

"That's not what you told Cisco or Caitlyn," I say, pointing out the double standard.

"They both work for me - and they are able to quit at anytime. Unless they do, I'll expect them to do what their jobs require. But you don't work for me, so I don't want you exposing yourself to the danger this person poses." I nod, accepting his explanation, though I had hoped that it was more motivated by feelings for me, in particular.

"And I can't volunteer to take on that danger?" I ask, a teasing smile at the corner of my lips.

"I suppose I can't stop you, but I don't think the benefits outweigh the risks."

"Very well." Though I'm glad to avoid the danger, part of me wishes that Wells considered my ability to be more helpful.

"I am very glad you came by though - I have something for you." For a heart-stopping second, I think he got me a Christmas present. I follow him into the laboratory section of the cortex. "Remember what we talked about during our previous session?" I nod. "I've been working on a little potion." He holds up a vial of a clear liquid.

"What is it?"

"It's an enzyme - totally natural - that should dampen the connection between your neurotransmitters."

"That sounds dangerous," I say suspiciously.

"It's not - I ran plenty of tests. On a normal person, it could provoke complications, but for you, it would have a similar impact as a couple alcoholic drinks, but in a much more precise way. This should moderate the connection between your subconscious and consciousness and consciousness and amygdala."

"How is it delivered - injection?" I ask with some hesitation.

"Yes." He peers at me closely. "Does the prospect of turning off this gift now that it is a possibility no longer seem quite so attractive?" I shrug.

"Maybe. It is pretty useful. Especially with a dangerous criminal on the loose."

"There's never going to be a great time to try this. But you have a break from work now...on the off chance that there are complications with this, you have time to recover." I can appreciate his logic.

"Alright. Might as well try." I sit in the nearest chair while Wells readies the injection. "How long is this going to last?"

"I'm not totally sure - there's going to be an element of trial and error here. Calculating for metabolism, I think about two hours. Can you roll up your sleeve?" he asks, and I do so, exposing the veins in my arm. When his fingers touch my arm, I'm shocked by how warm they feel - how my skin is practically on fire where he's touching me. "Ready?" he asks, his bright blue eyes close to mine, filling me with enough confidence that I am able to nod. I take a deep breath as I feel the pinch of the needle in my skin.

"All done," he says a few seconds later, and I open my eyes to see he's applying a bandaid to my arm.

"Thank you."

"How are you feeling? You look a little pale."

"That's nothing new for me when it comes to shots," I explain. Suddenly, I rush to the nearest garbage can, losing the contents of my stomach.

"Is that also normal?" There's a clear concern in his voice. I hold up my hand as a gather my breath.

"No, that's not."

"It must be a side effect from the enzyme - I'm sorry, I should have designed it to set in more gradually," he says in a rush.

"I'm alright," I insist, getting to my feet. I don't know what's making me more embarrassed - throwing up in front of Wells or having him apologize to me. "I'm feeling fine now," I note.

"Do you...feel any different?" he asks. I look around the room, looking for something to test my powers on. I decide to test what Wells thinks of me - something I've been too chicken to do thus far. I get nothing. I try again, closing my eyes and trying to connect with my power. I open my eyes, coming up empty.

"I think so!" I can't believe that worked. Holy hell is this man smart. "Thank you!" On impulse, I rush over to him, wrapping him in a tight hug for a few seconds that he hesitantly returns. "The timing of this couldn't be better, too. I'll be visiting family for the holiday, and to put it simply, somethings are better left unsaid," I explain. "Is there any other delivery system besides injection? I'm not sure I could inject myself regularly."

"Let me see what I can do. The enzyme would have to be protected from your stomach acid until it could be absorbed into your blood stream - maybe in some sort of casing…" he thinks outloud. "I'll let you know what I come up with. I'll shoot for before Christmas day," he says with a wink.

"Much appreciated." I squeeze his hand as I head out.

"Mika, please try to keep track of any other symptoms you are experiencing. It's possible this could impact your judgement, mood, even hormone production, if the dosage was too large. I'm still trying to figure out dosage."

"I understand, Dr. Wells," I say, but I'm too excited by the prospect of shutting off my power to pay much attention to his warning.

For two hours and seventeen minutes, I finally get some peace and quiet. No alarms, no sudden jolts of knowledge of strangers' personal lives. It's blissful. But it's shockingly empty.

As the serum wears off, I realize that it effected more than my power - it brought about a rush of endorphins, like a never ending sugar high. It crosses my mind that whatever Wells made could be addictive due to that side effect. My vision was different also - reds and greens were subdued, but blue was intensified.

I shoot off a text to Wells describing the side effects before I feel overwhelmingly tired. Packing for my trip to my mom's is going to have to wait another day. The clock reads 5:30 PM, but I decide it's bedtime.

As I close my eyes and head to sleep, I wonder why Wells is spending so much time helping me despite everything else going on right now. _He wants you_ and _he's using you_ sound through my head as I drift off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - 1X09 part II

When I wake up at 7 AM the next day, it's with a jolt. I had a premonitory dream of a man in a yellow suit trapped in a force field. My body is trembling all over from the intensity of the vision. I dress in a rush, barely even looking in the mirror to check my appearance, and head to STAR labs. Despite the early hour and it being Saturday, I'm confident that there will be at least one person there already. I'm really hoping it's Dr. Wells, but when I get there, I only find Cisco working in a basement lab.

"Cisco," I call to him.

"Hey, Mika, what brings you here?"

"I had a dream last night. Is Wells around?"

"No, he's not here yet. I heard you tried the serum he and Caitlyn worked on. How'd it go?"

"It worked, miraculously. Had some side effects - nausea, alteration in the perception of color, endorphin rush, sleepiness. But yeah, it worked."

"So if it worked, what was the dream about?" he asks.

"Well, it only lasted about two hours. The dream I had was of a man in a yellow suit, vibrating. And he was stuck in, well, that," I say, gesturing to the metal contraption Cisco is building.

"Sweet, so it worked!"

"I guess so."

"So why did you want to see Wells about it?"

"I'm not sure." I rub a hand over my face. "That was the only part of the dream I can remember, but I'm sure there was more than that. And I was scared. When I woke up, I was trembling." I shake my head, trying to sense any more information now that I'm in the room where my dream took place, but I'm not getting anything.

"When is this trap going to be sprung?" I ask.

"The plan is tonight. We will have the tachyonic device, two detectives, and four SWAT team members."

"And Barry?" I ask, laying a hand on one of the metal arms of the trap.

"We're going to ask him to sit this one out. We think he'd be more a liability than an asset considering his connection with this man." I nod, absorbing this information.

"Then I'd like to be here."

"Absolutely not," we hear Wells call, turning at the sound of his voice as he enters the room. I cross my arms, glaring at him.

"I'm just gonna go...powder my nose," Cisco says, scrambling for an excuse to leave.

When Wells and I are alone, I ask, "Why not?"

"I already told you - it's too dangerous." His tone is calm, authoritative, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged.

"If you're going up against a metahuman, you should have at least one meta on your side, don't you think?" I argue. Wells crosses his arms, looking the pinnacle of cool confidence.

"I don't mean any disrespect, Ms. Mika, but your abilities and those of a speedster aren't exactly an equal match."

"Sure they are," I bluster. "He can move very fast, but I can predict those moves." I see him consider this. "I want to be there," I insist. "For Barry, for you and Cisco and Caitlyn." He's silent, so I search for more arguments. "I can be your Weathervane." With a small smile, he dips his head.

"Very well. I'll let the others know you'll be joining us. You don't have travel plans tonight?" I shrug.

"I don't mind postponing them. I'm just going to Keystone."

"Well, I'm sure Cisco could use an extra set of hands on the trap."

"I'd be happy to help, though I'm not sure how much help I'll really be - I don't have much experience with tools or engineering."

"He can give you a short introduction. I'll let him know that we've worked out our differences and it's safe to come back in." I laugh at that. While I wait for Cisco to come back, I look at the drawings for this machine.

"I hear you'll be joining our stakeout tonight," he says cheerfully.

"Yep - I wouldn't miss it! What can I do to help with this in the meantime?" He gives me a spare wrench and shows me how to fit the different pieces of the arms together.

"I'm glad you're here. Caitlyn has been a little out of sorts this past week, and I didn't want to ask her to come in too early today."

"She lost someone she loved recently, right?"

"Sort of. Her fiance was believed dead when the particle accelerator exploded...now we're not so sure. But she's been mourning him for a year now."

"I see. I'm sure this time of year is hard for you all." He nods, pushing a lock of his hair back behind his ear.

"Wells especially. He doesn't have much family, and since the explosion, he hasn't had many friends either." I nod solemnly.

"People can be so fickle." There's a comfortable pause as he and I focus on our work.

"He seems to really enjoy having you around," Cisco says, surprising me.

"Who, Wells? Really?" I ask. "How can you tell?"

"Well, for starters, he's a lot more jokey when you're around." That makes me laugh.

"I don't believe you," I say suspiciously.

"Check me," he exclaims, standing with his arms at his sides in an open gesture. I tap into my power for a quick check and get no indication he's lying.

"Huh. Alright, well, I'm glad I can contribute to the team in some way, at the least."

"What do you mean by that?" he asks. I shrug, not in the mood to voice my feelings of inadequacy.

"I'm not around much, is all," I answer. "And I'm not a fighter or a scientist."

"You're a wonderful addition to the team, Mika," Cisco says, stopping work to look me in the eye.

"Thank you, that means a lot." Together, and with Caitlyn's help when she arrives, we finish the trap, and Cisco inspects the overall product.

"Alright, we should all get upstairs. I'm going to activate the tachyonic device to advertise that it's here," Cisco said. My pulse starts racing, but I'm not hearing any specific warning along with the fear reaction. In the cortex, Dr. Wells, Detective West, and the SWAT members wait. We join them in staring at the screen, waiting for something to appear in the trap. It seems to stretch for hours, but it's only minutes.

In a blink, the forcefield has activated, capturing the figure I saw in my dream.

"Let's go see what we caught," Wells announces. The police move out.

"Be careful," I tell him, the words coming out unbidden. He nods once, solemn.

As I watch on the screen, the picture fades in and out with the flickering lights. I have to keep blinking to get my eyes to focus on anything. The man in the yellow suit vibrates ominously in the ball of sparking electrical forcefield. My vision begins to fade just as the team enters the room.

"Cisco, tell them to get out of there," I say, my voice coming out quiet and small as my knees give out.

By the time I wake up in the medical room, there's another patient next to me - Dr. Wells! I sit up with a start, rushing over to his cot where Caitlyn is patching him up while Cisco talks about the containment field.

"Dr. Wells! What happened?" I ask.

"The speedster was able to escape and he captured me. For some reason, whoever he is doesn't seem to like me very much," he says it with a wry smile, but I can see how much pain he is in. I reach out a hand to rest on his arm, realizing only too late that he's only in a tank top, and I'm touching bare skin. He smiles at me, but I worry I invaded his space, so I pull my hand away, fighting a blush.

"So, that man got away?"

"With the prototype," Cisco laments.

"Well, shit. I'm sorry, I should have known, should have seen it coming." So much for being the weathervane.

"You did though - right before you passed out, you said they needed to evacuate."

"I did?"

"Yes," Caitlyn says, looking up from her treatment. "You had another seizure, Mika."

"I don't know why - I wasn't overtaxing myself."

"It was probably the lighting in the room. The power draw from the containment field made the lights flicker; remember I said that can cause seizures?"

"Oh. Shoot." I shake my head at my forgetfulness. I should have closed my eyes or looked away when the lights began to flicker, but I was too curious. "Is Barry okay?" The three exchange a glance.

"Physically, he will be fine," Caitlyn answers. "Emotionally...he'll need some time. I imagine this will be his main focus until we catch the guy." They all nod in agreement. I look at Wells again, taking in the extent of his injuries - the bruising, the cuts. I wish I could have better prevented this. Eventually, Caitlyn finishes her work, and she and Cisco head out, dejected.

"Do you need any help? Any company?" I ask. He waves away the questions.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern. Are _you_ alright?" I roll my shoulders and stretch.

"Yes, I think so. I think my pride is just bruised. I feel so silly for collapsing at such a pivotal moment. I'm sorry I couldn't do more tonight." His hand reaches out to mine, which is resting on the side of his bed.

"Nothing that happened tonight is your fault." I shake my head. I know he means well.

"I should have seen farther ahead, in more detail. If we had known this plan would fail, we could have been better prepared, you wouldn't have been hurt," I say, looking into his shockingly blue eyes.

"I'll recover. Please, don't worry about me. You should head out and enjoy the holiday." I nod solemnly, not really wanting to go but lacking an excuse to stay.

"Alright. Please, text or call me if you need anything at all. I'm not far."

"I will." I head for the door, wishing with all my heart he would call me back, beg me to stay, and we could spend the holiday cuddled together near a fireplace.

"Mika," he says. I turn around, my heart thudding.

"Yes?"

"I almost forgot. In the lab, on the third shelf near the door, there's a modified version of that last serum. I had time last night to make adjustments based on the side effects you mentioned. It still needs an injection for the delivery though, so I modified an epi-pen. I figured that might be easier than a full-on needle in a vein." I follow his directions and find the bottle of serum and the pen. After I failed tonight to fully use my gift, I'm not willing to give it up again. But I might feel differently when surrounded by relatives, so I grab it and pack it carefully in my purse.

"Thank you, Dr. Wells." I come back to his bed to squeeze his hand, but that doesn't properly capture the depths of my gratitude, so I lean over, my hand resting gently on his shoulder, and I plant a soft kiss on an uninjured section of his cheek. I pull back slightly and say quietly, "I hope you have a very Merry Christmas."

"Same to you, Mika." I don't need my gift to tell me that the quickening of his breath and dilated pupils indicate he's aroused. After seeing that proof of his attraction, it's a thousand times harder to leave, but he hasn't asked me to stay, so I force my feet out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

As I make the drive to Keystone that night, my mind keeps returning to the idea of Wells alone in the entirety of STAR labs - other than the metahuman criminals in the pipeline. He must be lonely. That's probably why he has been so willing to help me. I mean, he doesn't _seem_ lonely, but aren't geniuses always? I sigh. For the amount of time I spend thinking about Dr. Wells, one would think I'd have just tried to use my gift to get a reading on him, but it doesn't seem ethical. It feels like an invasion of privacy when I learn things about strangers - even more so when I inadvertently learn things about someone in my life.

My concern for Wells and loathing for my family gatherings prompts me, at 12:01 AM Christmas Day, to text him a "Merry Christmas! Hope you're feeling alright." He's not much of a texter, so I'm surprised when I get a reply a few minutes later.

"Merry Christmas to you too. How's the family? Have you had to use the serum yet?"

"Lol, I have been resisting...not sure how much longer I can take it though…" I'm even more surprised when a minute later, my phone starts vibrating with a call from him. It must be a slip of the thumb, but I answer all the same, not willing to miss the chance to hear his voice.

"Hello?" I say while extricating myself from the festivities.

"Hey, I figured we might as well just wish each other Merry Christmas in person. Or, at least, less virtually. I thought you were available though, and judging by the background noise, you're not. Sorry to interrupt." I slip through the clumps of conversationalists to the back door, which I escape through.

"You didn't interrupt anything." I'm on the back patio, leaning against the wall to escape the chill of the wind. "Thanks for calling. It's nice to hear your voice," I say, my three glasses of wine making me more bold than I otherwise would be.

"It's nice to hear yours too...are you drunk?" he asks.

"I'm...tipsy," I answer, a jolt of pleasure shooting through me at the sound of his chuckle. "Don't judge, we all cope in our own ways," I say before I realize how dark that sounds.

"That bad?" he asks. I sigh.

"Let's just say if Barry was down to impersonate the Reverse Flash and kidnap me, I wouldn't be opposed. I know it's only a day or so, but my god, there must be a metahuman here whose power is to slow down time." He laughs again, but it's not as mirthful.

"I'm sorry it's so bad. Do you want to talk about why?" I fight a shiver from the wind.

"Maybe some other time. It's Christmas. I shouldn't be complaining." I gaze up at the stars, heaving a sigh.

"Sometimes we all need to," he says, wise and placid.

"It's a beautiful night," I change the subject. "I was a little surprised you were still awake, actually."

"Me too," he says. "I thought after the recent events, I'd be out like a light, but...I just can't quite relax." There's a tension in his voice. I'm not sure if it comes from physical pain or nervousness from showing vulnerability.

"That's perfectly understandable." He says nothing, so I babble to fill the space of silence. "Sometimes I forget you're human, the way you carry yourself - you're always so poised, so collected." I hear the sound of a mattress and sheets shifting, and a hot blush goes through me at the realization I'm talking to him while he's in bed.

"I'm flattered you see me that way, Mika." I laugh.

"I don't think it's anything out of the ordinary. Barry and the others look at you like you're God himself." Now it's his turn to laugh.

"I think you turn into a hyperbolist when you drink," he teases.

"Oh, cut the bull - you know it's true," I say with a smile. He hesitates.

"I'll take the fifth on that one." I smile to myself.

"And I'll take that as an admission that you know I'm right." There's a comfortable pause. "I should probably quit while I'm ahead and get back to the party before I'm missed."

"I understand. Best of luck. And again, Merry Christmas."

"Same to you. And get some sleep," I implore him.

"I will. Good night."

"Goodnight." We hang up the phone, but it doesn't seem final. It seems like we should have closed the conversation with an _I love you._ I lean farther into the wall, letting it support me, and relishing the happy warmth that lingers after every interaction with Wells. This is an especially strong rush, however, and it manages to sustain me through much of the rest of the celebration.

When I get back inside, I return to entertaining my little cousins - my excuse to avoid talking to my judgemental adult relatives.

"Was that your boyfriend?" one of the girls teases in a sing-song voice between opening the plastic casings of her new toys. I shake my head immediately. I can't even imagine how thrilled my mom would be if I showed up with a disgraced scientist twice my age. Not that that stops me from wanting to.

After Christmas, we don't hear anything from the Man in Yellow - aka the Reverse Flash. In that time, Wells and I have been training. A lot. I try to come by every night after work for a couple hours. If it was anyone other than Wells, I don't think I would be motivated to, but the fact that my shortcomings caused him pain and that training means largely one-on-one time with him, I can't pass up the opportunity. Eventually though, I begin to flag in my efforts as work picks up again.

I'm working on this release that's due to go out at 6 tomorrow morning, which should be a simple thing, but I've been working on it for hours. I just can't get the words out. I'm close to pounding my head on my desk in frustration when my pity party is interrupted by a phone call.

"Hello?" I answer curtly, not recognizing the number.

"Mika, it's Cisco. There's any emergency, and we need you right now. Caitlyn has been kidnapped, and we don't know where she is. Where are you? Barry will come pick you up."

"Oh my god. I'm at work." I give Cisco the address, gathering my things in an effort to meet Barry in the lobby, when he shows up in my cubicle. I let out a startled scream, flying backwards in fear.

"It's just me," he says.

"Jesus, that's terrifying, Barry. Warn a gal the next time you drop in. Let's go." I say, clutching fiercely to my purse as he gathers me into his arms and bolts us to STAR labs. I could get used to moving at Flash speeds, I think just as soon as we're at the Labs, and I'm placed back on my feet, moving at a much more boring pace. "Who took Caitlyn?" I ask as soon as I can draw a full breath. Wells immediately pulls up two pictures on the screen.

"Leonard Snart - aka Captain cold - and Micky Roy." I look at their faces and then close my eyes, concentrating. I wish I had more energy in the tank, but I'm exhausted.

"She's at a warehouse. Near the docks. I'm getting...one, three? - no, eight - seven." Wells punches it into a search engine, and an advertisement comes up for a vacant warehouse with that number.

"She must be there. Cisco, Joe, and Mika head down there. Make sure Cailtyn is okay. I need to go kick Snart's ass," Barry says as he rushes downtown. Immediately, Cisco, Joe, and I set off - Wells and I barely have enough time to so much as smile in greeting. As Joe drives to the warehouse, Cisco catches me up on Barry's history with Snart and what it is he wants. With a clearer picture of the man in my head, I'm able to get a better sense of where Caitlyn is and how to find her.

"Stop here," I say suddenly, directing them on instinct. I rush out of the car, approaching the door I'm called towards. "She's in here." I step back while Joe breaks the padlock. Once inside, I approach more tentatively. I can hear her making noise, trying to tell us something. There's a vague sense of danger lurking at the corners of my mind.

"Caitlyn, it's me." She groans in reply - she must be gagged. "Is it safe to approach you? If it's not, say nothing. If it is, make a noise." Silence greets us. Fuck. I concentrate very hard. "Is it a bomb?" She makes a frightened noise. I'll take that as a yes.

"How do we get to her?" Cisco asks impatiently.

"I'm thinking," I hiss, my fingers going to my temples, fighting through the stabbing pains in my head. The less I use my gift, the less it takes to make those pains appear. "There's a trip wire, running around the chair. We can disable it by reaching through the wires and putting the pin back in. Joe, can you do that?" He nods. "Caitlyn, are there any more traps than the one I know of? Quiet for yes, noise for no." She makes a noise, and I heave a sigh of relief. I don't think I could do that again without having another seizure. For all the bombardment of information I received today while I was at work, I'm remarkably out of practice actually using my gift.

Once Caitlyn is safely freed, she embraces me fiercely as we rush back to the car and away from this dark and horrible place.

"Thank you for coming. Thank you for saving me."

"I'll always come," I promise. "Let's get you back to STAR labs," I tell her affectionately.

"Can we stop for Big Belly Burger first? I could really use a meal." We nod, and Cisco fuses over her the whole way to the restaurant and back to the lab. I can't help but smile to myself; they'd be cute together. I wonder if they think _I'd_ be cute paired up with someone else who's on Team Flash…it's frankly worrying how often Wells is on my mind.

Back in the cortex, I wait for Barry to come back from his fight with Captain Cold and the pyromaniac. He's my ride back to work. Cisco took Caitlyn home, so it's just me and Wells.

"You haven't come by lately. Is everything alright?" he asks, interrupting my silent rumination. I glance up, surprised to find him closer than I anticipated.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off my moroseness. "I...work has been...difficult, lately." I'm not sure how much to reveal, but looking into his clear, open eyes, I'm not able to hold back the torrent of words that have been building inside me since this morning. "Actually, no, everything is not alright. I've got this account at work, a big corporation, very powerful. I disagree with practically everything they stand for, but hey, that's the job. Anyways, they're in hot water because some of their suppliers are on trial for using slave labor. Now, they're claiming that they didn't _know_ they were sourcing from slave labor, but I'm on a call with the company president, and I know, I just _know,_ he's lying." Wells makes a face of sympathy at this. "And it's my job to write up a notice excusing their ignorance, claiming they're going to institute changes to do better...but I know that it's a lie! How can I ethically write something that's a lie? I just don't know what to do," I finish sadly. He nods thoughtfully.

"I'm starting to better understand why you want to have the option to turn your gift off. That's not an easy situation to be in." He leans forward and lays his hands on mine. I feel a jolt of warmth and energy move through me from his touch. "I know you'll work it out - you're very smart." I can't help but blush and beam from the intensity of his gaze.

"I didn't realize you thought that about me," I say quietly, very aware that he and I are alone.

"Of course I do." His tone copies mine - his voice is soft, smooth...sensuous. I stare into his eyes, desperate for him to make a definitive move, but we just gaze comfortably at each other for longer than my heart can take. Finally, I clear my throat and back away a little.

"I was thinking about writing the damn piece but tipping off CCPN - if the company is caught lying, it will be even worse than if they're just caught breaking the law. Then I won't have to feel so badly about defending them."

"I think that's a great idea," he says with a smile. "Your name doesn't go on the release?" I shake my head.

"No, just the firm I work for. Our brand might be tarnished a little, but I'm sure we'll recover."

"Ah, that's good. I've learned not to put your name on anything you're not willing to stake your reputation on." I nod seriously at his allusion to his downfall.

"People forget and move on to focus on the next newsworthy event," I say tenderly, trying to be optimistic.

"They do." He looks at me closely then, his eyes twinkling with an idea. "A good public relations specialist can help them do that, even." I cock my head, not sure where he's going. "You know," he says after a moment's pause, "you could always quit tomorrow instead of writing the piece." I laugh at that, sharp and harsh.

"I wish - wouldn't that be the dream."

"Why not?" he asks, perfectly serious.

"I have rent I need to pay," I exclaim. "A phone bill, insurance...god you rich folks can be really out of touch with reality," I mockingly chide him.

"You could work here. With Caitlyn and Cisco and me." My heart stops. He just...offered me a job?

"Oh my god I can't believe Harrison Wells just offered me a job," I say breathlessly before wishing I could suck back the words and slap my hand over my mouth. Luckily, he just laughs.

"It's been a while since I was able to get that reaction from someone." Oh, so that must be why he likes me - I'm one of the few people still fangirling over him. I ignore the sting of that realization and shrug, trying to focus on the conversation.

"I mean...it is a very tempting offer." I look around as if seeing my high tech surroundings for the first time. Everything is so shiny and interesting. "It'd be great to be more fully part of the team, to help you metahuman-wise and PR-wise." I trail off. Already my brain is flicking through different ideas for how to make some good headlines for STAR labs. But do I want to actually work with the same people I train with?

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"I'm just...considering the possibility. And any potential consequences of how that would affect my relationship with you all - if I had to order you around and give you advice on how to present yourselves and what to do."

"It's worth considering. But I think you spending more time here could only be a good thing. It would give you more flexibility to train and help with the Flash cases - to truly be Weathervane," he adds with a smile. I can't help but smile back. Barry bolts in then with a flash of lightning.

"Sorry for the delay - I stopped by the station. Ready to go?" he asks. I look at Wells, uncertain, and he looks back at me with that small, charismatic smile. Being his PR person would be incredibly easy...the world looks for reasons to love someone like Wells. And if I accept his offer, I don't have to leave with Barry to go back to the dark and dreary office.

"Let me think about it," I tell Wells, leaving Barry to guess what _it_ is. Wells nods once.

"Of course." With a wave goodbye, Barry whisks me up and out of the lab. The cool night air rushes past me, blowing past me and feeling like freedom. Especially in contrast to the dark cubicle Barry sets me down in.

"You sure you don't want to go home?" he asks, glancing around the deserted office. I sigh. Wells' offer is looking mighty appealing right about now...but no, I don't want to do anything rash or put myself in a situation where I'm dependent on Wells. That would make fucking him extra complicated….not that that should be a main motivation of mine, but hey, he's so damn sexy, I can't give up the possibility.

"I need to stay. Thank you though. Take care, Barry."

"Thanks for your help tonight."

"Anytime - really." I wave goodbye, and he's gone. I sit down with a sigh and pound the words out - hitting each key on the keyboard with a spiteful jab. By the time I'm done and I get home, I only have time for a few hours of sleep before I need to head back into the office. Wells is looking more and more like my knight in shining armor.


	8. Chapter 8

Though I have been seriously considering taking Wells up on his job offer, I know that if we start working together, I will need to completely write off the possibility of the two of us being involved sexually or romantically in any way. Granted, I'd still be willing to, but something tells me he's too respectful of a boss to be anything but professional.

Regardless, though I have seen him a few times since he made the offer, he has not mentioned it again. Thus, I'm convinced he made the offer spontaneously or because he felt badly for me and wanted to give me an out and not because he was seriously considering hiring me. So, I don't bring it up either, and we continue our training like normal until I have to take another break from training due to some competing client deadlines.

By the time I come back, Wells seems...buffer, or is his shirt just doing fucking amazing things to his biceps? Either way, it takes considerable effort to stay focused on the task at hand - in this case, predicting the winning numbers of various lotteries around the country. We're trying to test my longer term predictive abilities, and these numbers theoretically should be random.

"Are you just trying to make a quick buck from me?" I ask him, causing the corners of his deliciously soft looking lips to twitch up.

"Not at all, Mika. If I wanted to do that, I'd have turned you into a stadium mentalist." I laugh.

"I would probably be better at that than random number generating."

"That's a crude simplification, and you know it," he says, leaning forward with a smirk. I gaze back at him, uncowed by his teasing, and I instinctively bite my lip, fighting to keep my eyes from grazing over his mouth.

"Oh, hey there, Mika," Cisco calls as he enters. Wells and I both startle apart a few inches.

"Hey, Cisco," I say, smiling easily at him. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too - it's been a while."

"Yeah, things were busy at my day job - couldn't get away to spend time at my night-time gig - helping Dr. Wells gamble." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smile, and I can't help but grin at how comfortable we are together. "So, what'd I miss?" Cisco makes a weird face - somewhere between confusion and suspicion.

"You didn't tell her?" he asks Wells, and from the corner of eye, I catch Wells making a stern face and shaking his head. When I turn to look at him, he immediately stops, looking at me with an innocent expression.

"Didn't tell me what?" I ask suspiciously. Did the man in yellow come back? After a moment of silence, during which I suspect Cisco considered the wisdom in disobeying his boss, he explains what I missed.

"Well, we met the Arrow, and Barry went rogue because a metahuman inflicted him with rage, and the Arrow had to fight Barry to try to stop them, and Wells somehow figured out the Arrow's secret identity - honestly I thought you had been the one to do that, so I'm pretty surprised you didn't know about this - basically it was a hella rad week. Shame you couldn't have been there," he adds and bites the end off a twizzler. I'm deeply disconcerted by this news.

"Cisco," Wells says in his most composed authoritarian voice, "could you give us a moment?"

"Uh, sure thing," he says, hurriedly backing out of the room.

"You're upset," he says as soon as we're alone.

"I'm...confused. I don't - I don't understand. Why would you...why do you keep me removed from these things? Do you not want me to be part of the team? Do you think I can't keep up with the others because I'm not a scientist or have super powers?" My voice is gradually getting higher and angrier. "Do you not trust my gift? Do you not think I can be helpful? I just...don't understand." I didn't mean to reveal that I care so much about what Wells thinks of me, but I also can't find it in me to regret it. He sighs and takes off his glasses.

"Honestly, I'm surprised that you have such questions. I thought that you must know...that my reasons would be abundantly clear to you, considering your abilities."

"I don't intentionally use my gift on people I know," I tell him. He nods thoughtfully, looking past me.

"I didn't realize. I just assumed you must have," he gestures vaguely, "picked up on it." I cross my arms, his evasiveness irritating me.

"Well,I haven't, so would you care to explain yourself?" He looks at me, resignation in his bright eyes.

"Very well. I suppose I owe you that much." He takes a deep breath. "You...I feel...protective of you. More protective than I feel of the others. And I don't...know why, exactly, but I know don't want you involved with the crime fighting aspects of what we do because...I guess I'm more of a caveman than I like to admit." I shake my head, not fully understanding.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say." He sighs.

"I'm saying that you're a beautiful young woman, who I am attracted to, and I guess that brings out all these...instincts," he says, gesturing vaguely to himself. I don't know what to say - I can barely remember how to breathe. He must take my silence as confusion, so he continues elaborating. "I want to make sure that you're safe and sheltered and taken care of. That nothing ever hurts you. I want to protect you," I cut him off with a kiss, moving without thinking - just rising to my feet to close the distance between us and leaning down to kiss him tenderly, my hands in his hair and resting on his chest. He makes a soft hum of surprise before leaning into the kiss, his hands tracing up my arms and to my waist. I press a little harder against him before pulling back a few inches.

"I'm sorry if you didn't want," I begin to say, but he hushes me, shaking his head and then kissing me. I stifle a moan and savor the feeling of his soft lips on mine. I move my hands across his arms and his shoulders - my core tightening with need as I feel his surprisingly substantial muscles - and his hands caress my waist and hips. Finally, I pull away with a gasp, the thrill from his touch making me breathless. His eyes shine with arousal.

"We should do that some more," I say, surprised by how husky my voice is.

"We should. But maybe someplace a little more private," he says with a glance at the open doorway. I nod.

"Good point." He pulls out his phone and quickly types a message. A second later, I see that he's texted me an address - presumably his.

"Why don't you come by sometime," he says with a heart-stopping grin.

"I'd like that. Maybe later tonight," I offer quietly. He bites his lip softly.

"Maybe now?" he asks, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

"Now'd be good," I answer immediately.

"Great. Let's go to my car," he says, and I can barely breathe as we head down to the garage. I raise my eyebrows at his car - the only one in the garage. He must have modified his Lexus so that he could still drive it.

"Nice ride," I say.

"Thank," he replies. "It's an indulgence of mine," he says with a smile.

On the ride to his place - which is much farther out of the city than I expected it to be - I take the chance to learn more about Wells - how he met Cisco and Caitlyn, what got him interested in science, and what he sees as STAR labs' next steps in helping fight/help metahumans.

"Do you really think we can keep the metahumans in the pipeline forever? I mean, they're basically in solitary confinement. For all their crimes, that seems a little cruel." He shoots me a sideways glance, amused but curious. "What? Surely a man of your wisdom knows the side effects people go through in solitary."

"You're showing a lot of compassion for murderers," he says wryly. I scoff.

"They're still human. I'm not saying they _shouldn't_ be punished, but there's a reason the eighth amendment exists. From what I've seen of you and from your reputation, I would think you too would be more concerned about the humanness of the punishment." He shrugs.

"You're right that it's a temporary solution at best. But what are our other options? If we go to the police at this point, too many questions will be asked. And frankly, they don't have the capabilities to deal with these people."

"Not now, sure. But if they had time to prepare, I'm sure they could come up with something." He looks over at me, smiling.

"I'm always impressed by your faith in others."

"You're skeptical?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"I've seen enough of the world to know that assuming too much about people's capabilities only leads to trouble. And in this case, lives are on the line." I nod, accepting his explanation for now. The woods suddenly part to reveal a gated community of near-mansions with expanses of greenery between them. I realize that my jaw has dropped open and hastily shut it, hopeful that Wells did not see my reaction.

"Nice place," I comment.

"You don't know which one is mine yet," he says, eyes twinkling with teasing.

"I don't need to. They're _all_ nice." That makes him chuckle.

"Well, thank you. It is a nice place, if I do say so myself." He pulls up to one of the grandest, sleekest houses.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" he asks while opening the front door with a keycard. I follow him inside the two massive double doors that open automatically. As I walk in, I completely forgot what it was that he asked me as I am overwhelmed by the beauty and luxury of his home. I have to replay the memory as I scramble to provide an answer.

"A glass of water would be nice," I say before becoming completely distracted by the the artistic frosted glass panes in the entryway and the scenes they depict.

"Your home is absolutely stunning," I say while following him into the kitchen.

"Thank you. Let me show you around," he says while passing me a glass of water. I follow while he points out the living room, it's sleek with a large fireplace and massive skylights; a den, which is darker and more stuffy than the living room; a guest bedroom, which is furnished in dark blue; a large dining room with so much crystal in it that it practically sparkles; and an opulent half bathroom. As we've been walking around, I've noticed there is a staircase that, to my surprise, is not modified with an escalator to help paralyzed people up stairs. When I first started crushing - and fantasizing - about Wells, I read voraciously about the accident and any news article that mentioned his injury, trying in vain to determine if his injury was complete or partial. The most specific tidbit I could find was a doctor - anonymously quoted - who said that Wells would be in a wheelchair the rest of his life.

"Want to see the upstairs?" he asks. I nod, too curious to see what will happen next to speak. Yet, I am still surprised when he rises to his feet and walks up the stairs. He's taller than I thought he would be.

"You don't seem too surprised," he says as we climb the elegant staircase. I know what he's referring to.

"I wasn't sure until we got to your house. But not much is modified to accommodate someone in wheelchair, so that was a pretty good indicator that you could stand. Do you mind if I ask about your injury?"

"Not at all," he says, turning to face me now that we've ascended the steps. "But I would ask that we have that conversation seated. Steps always take a lot out of me." He gestures to some plush armchairs on the landing.

"So you're not paralyzed, obviously," I add, feeling foolish. "But you do use the wheelchair for daily use. I don't know much about spinal injuries, and I don't want to pry, but I'm curious why you need the wheelchair," I ask in a small voice, not wanting to ask anything that would be insensitive.

"Right after the accident, I was in worse condition than I am now. Some advanced physical therapy and stem cell treatments have helped significantly, to the point where I could probably use a walker or a cane for everyday use. But I do get these bouts of unresponsiveness and tremors, especially if I spend too long on my feet. Between that, and I admit, the optics of being in a wheelchair, it just seemed easier to keep the chair for public use. I don't relish the idea of collapsing in public." I nod, understanding completely.

"Do Caitlyn and Cisco know?" I ask. "Or is this something I should keep private?" He shrugs.

"It doesn't make much difference. They both know I have very limited movement, but I would like the extent of my movement to be kept confidential. I'm sure you can appreciate that most of the public would see my use of the chair as simply a ruse." I nod, understanding completely. There are so many misconceptions about disabilities and wheelchair use.

'Of course." I am flattered he trusts me enough to share this information with me. "So can you still-"

"Fuck?" he interupts. I feel myself color slightly. The mischievous twinkle in his eye doesn't help.

"I was going to ask if you can go for walks around your property. But I am admittedly curious about that as well," I add, trying to tease him like he was clearly doing to me.

"I can. To answer both your questions," he answers, completely composed. I feel an electric jolt of lust through my core. I swallow hard, suddenly very aware that I am alone with him in his house.

"That's good to know," I say sweetly, innocently. I am pleased to see that a slight flush has come over him now, and his breathing is shallow. _He wants me._ I bite my lip at the thought, rather pleased with myself. I think I won this round of trying to make the other blush.

"Want to show me more of your fancy house?" I ask, rising. He laughs, the sound sparkling like the crystal in his dining room.

"Of course." He leads me to a study, opens the door to a few more bedrooms, and shows off the plush leather chairs in the entertainment room.

"This is my art collection," he says, pulling open another door, as if this is a feature of everyone's house. I walk inside, amazed. He's got modernist sculptures and abstract paintings as well as a few paintings in the more classical style. One portrait in particular captures my attention. It's of a man, looking rather dapper. He looks about middle-aged, his hair a brunette so light it's nearly blonde. He's not particularly handsome, his features a little too heavy for my taste, and his eyes look sharp, like a bird of prey. I feel a shiver run down my back as I look at the piece - the subject's eyes seeming to be coldly assessing me.

"Who is that?" I ask.

"That's actually a piece I had commissioned," he says, his hand casually looping around my waist. I feel that same pull of longing, heaviness, between my legs. "He was a relative of mine. I saw an old daguerreotype of him, and there was just...something in his affect that intrigued me." I look at the piece a little closer, trying to find some sort of family resemblance, but seeing none.

"He looks intelligent," I finally settle on saying, not sure what else to say, and I look at a few of the other works before I'm ready to leave. As we exit, I notice there is one more door that has remained unopened.

"Would you like to see the master bedroom?" he asks casually. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. It feels like sparks are dancing across my skin merely at the anticipation at being in Dr. Harrison Wells' bedroom. His room is opulent like the rest of the house - gold threads in the comforter, a king sized bed that looks impossibly plush, elegant furniture. But the most amazing piece of the room is a wall of windows that overlook a wooded area and the brilliant sky.

"You can see so many more stars here," I say in wonderment, setting my water glass down on a coffee table while I approach the windows.

"That's one of the reasons I tolerate the long commute," he says, his voice sounding from a few inches behind my ear. His arms wrap around me then, hugging my body to his. We stay like that for a few moments, both of admiring the view, before I turn to face him, running my hands across his arms and shoulders. Up on my tip toes, I close my eyes and lean in to kiss him, moaning slightly as our lips touch and send a jot of desire through me. I've been having to hold myself back from him since we first arrived. _And now I'm in Harrison Wells' bedroom,_ I marvel to myself. That thought is quickly replaced as I can think only of the heated kisses Wells and I exchange.

His hands start on my waist, but they quickly wander across my body to explore the curves of my hips, my back, my ass. His lips leave a trail of fire wherever he kisses - along my neck, my ear, across my chest. I tangle my fingers in his hair, desperate for more of his touch, his lips. My whole body is flushed with a rush of ecstasy, and I press my body against his, needing more of him. He moans in appreciation and pulls me tighter against him. As he kisses me deeply, I move my hips against his to release some of the tension building between my legs. It does the opposite. Harrison must appreciate the motion as he grabs more tightly to my body.

Slowly but purposefully, Harrison moves us towards the bed while we are still entwined. He sits down on the edge, and I move to straddle him. He makes a hum of approval and nips at my lip while I settle on his lap, my hips already moving against his to generate some teasing friction. His hands trail down my back to grab my ass while I speed up my rocking. I take the growing hardness I am grinding against as indication of his approval.

He tangles a hand in my hair, cupping my head as he leans back against the bed, pulling me down with him. I lay on top of him, running an appreciative hand down his toned chest. He swats my ass playfully, and I gasp in surprise and pleasure. He does it again, harder, and I moan and lean into our kiss, surprised by how deeply aroused I was by that. Again, his hand comes down hard and firm, and I am nearly overwhelmed by my desire to have Harrison's cock inside me. I grab fistfulls of his shirt and kiss him feriociously. I need this man.

His hands move to the hem of my shirt, and I quickly take it off, tossing it over my head. He rolls over, so that he is now on top of me, and one of his legs is between mine. I hum with pleasure, wrapping my arms around him, while the reverent touch of his hands against my breasts makes me feel like a goddess. I thrust against his leg, and his grip tightens on me momentarily. I am burning with a fever for this man. I wrap one of my legs around his, caressing down the length of him. He kisses me more intensely, one of his hands tangling in my hair. I pull at his shirt, tugging it to expose his toned abdomen. He eventually realizes what I want and breaks away momentarily to take his shirt off. I run my fingertips down his bare chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath my touch. They allude to a powerful strength. I grind against him with need. He grabs a fistful of my hair, holding me tightly.

I surrender to his touch, letting him hold me and touch me however will most please him. My hands wrap around his torso while his deftly unhook my bra, tossing it aside while he grinds his hips more intently against mine. I spread my legs wider so that he can hit a more pleasurable angle. I squirm against him, the friction making me restless and teasing the pleasure to come.

But not tonight. For all that we grind and roll around, by unspoken consent, we both keep our underwear on. I know why I do: I want to keep working with Team Flash, and if Wells and I sleep together, that could make things complicated. I'm assuming he feels similarly. There's many benefits to moving slowly. Or, if not moving slowly, in at least not doing anything rash.

So, after hours of passionate kissing and caressing and rubbing, we end up just lying together above his covers, wrapped in each other's arms, and looking out at the sky.

"Thank you for having me over," I whisper. There's no reason to do so except that, in the intimacy of the moment, it seems appropriate.

"It was my pleasure," he whispers back, planting a kiss on my head.

"I guess we didn't end up getting much training done," I say. He chuckles.

"You're right. I guess you'll have to come back tomorrow night," he says innocently. But there's a hum of excitement in his tone that bellies his meaning and sets my heart racing.

"I guess I will," I say with a smile and nuzzle against his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

The following day, I leave work right at 5 PM. Not that I should - I have too much going on to justify that - but I can't spend another second without Wells. We have been texting periodically throughout the day, and I have to fight every instinct not to break every traffic law on the way to his place.

When I get through the door, I find Harrison waiting in the living room with a bottle of sparkling wine.

"For me?" I ask, charmed he remembered I said that was my favorite.

"Yes. I figured you could use a drink." I had complained about how busy things were - and I had another client lie to us about their PR situation.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a very smart man, Dr. Wells?" I sit with a dramatic flourish, lounging on the couch while he pours me a glass. I take a large initial gulp, relishing the accompanying release. "It's very good to be here with you." He reaches a hand out to brush mine.

"It's very good to have you here."

"You know all about my day - how was yours?" I kick off my shoes and tuck my feet underneath me.

"It was good - productive. Caitlyn and I have been analyzing tissue samples from one of the first metahumans we encountered - a man who can turn himself into poisonous gas." I raise my eyebrows at that. "We think we've discovered the mechanism of his ability. There's quite fascinating implications for cellular transmutation." I listen attentively as he walks me through what they discovered, but I get too distracted by the way Wells' eyes sparkle and the length of his fingers and the luscious plumpness of his mouth to absorb much of what he's saying. I love listening to his voice - it resonates through my body with the same thrill of excitement as a lover's caress.

I'm jolted out of my wine-aided reflections by a sudden alert of danger. Wells shifts in his seat and pulls out his phone.

"Excuse me," he says as he answers the call. "This is Wells." There's a pause. "Hello?" I hear that there's a voice on the line, but I can't make out what they say. Wells says nothing in return and hangs up the call, looking slightly perturbed.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"Some sort of prank call," he says with a smile, but I can tell that he is distracted. And my sense of danger isn't leaving. "Anyways, where were we?" he asks. On instinct, I leap to my feet, grab Wells' arm, and race from the living room to the kitchen. Before Wells can so much draw a breath to ask why I did that, the glass in the skylights shatters, showering the living room with shards.

"Oh my god," he breathes, pulling me closer to him. I maintain a fierce grip on his arm, terrified of what could have happened to him if I wasn't there.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Yes, just a little shaken."

I look at the destruction. "Who would do this?"

He shrugs, moving away from me slightly. "I don't know." I don't need my gift to tell me he's lying.

"We should call the police. Whoever did this clearly wants to hurt you - even kill you."

Wells shakes his head. "No, no. I don't want to bother them with this. This is clearly just a prank." I raise my eyebrows.

"Are you kidding? If you were still sitting there, you'd be in the hospital!" He just shakes his head.

"It's no matter. I'll call a cleaning service in the morning, get new windows put in - it will be like it never happened. Let's not let it ruin our evening," he says, reaching out to stroke my hand. I stare at him, waiting for him to be honest with me, explain what's really going on, but he says silent. I pull my hand away.

"We can continue where we left off when you're honest with me about whatever it is that is going on. I don't like being kept in the dark. Especially about something so crucial as your safety." Shaking my head, I head for the door. He doesn't even try to protest my charge against him.

I fume the whole way home - equally upset with Wells for hiding what is going on and the person who targeted him and interrupted what was shaping up to be a lovely evening of passion. I don't hear from Wells the rest of the night - not even another half hearted explanation. And I don't contact him. Is this where we end - finished before we even really start? I certainly hope not, but I don't want to get more involved with someone who isn't going to be honest with me.

When I check my phone during a coffee break at work, I am surprised to see a rather cryptic text from him. It just says, "I need your help." Though I am concerned about why he needs my help, I am relieved that he is reaching out and, I presume, will be opening up about the truth of what happened last night.

"How can I help?" I reply.

"I need a PR expert. It's a bit of a crisis."

"I need more details than that to help."

"One of my former employees is taunting me by threatening to go public with some new information about the particle accelerator explosion."

"What's the info? Was the explosion preventable?" I ask. That's probably worst case scenario. My phone buzzes.

"Sort of."

I curse under my breath.

"You need to get out ahead of this information. We need to do a press conference ASAP."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"What are the chances he'll go public?"

"Probably around 80 percent."

" **Yes.** Schedule something for lunch. It can't be at STAR labs - pick some place authoritative that people have positive associations with. Maybe city hall? And we need to have another announcement with this. Do you have any research or initiatives you can publically pioneer?"

"I was thinking about starting a STEM scholarship program?"

"That's a start. I'll try to duck out for an hour beforehand to coach you on some of the questions journalists may ask you."

"Thank you, that would be much appreciated."

The time until I am scheduled to meet up with Wells flies by. Despite our disagreement, my heart flutters at the sight of him. I'm crushing so hard it's almost comical. He picks me up in the STAR labs van, and we find a quiet park to talk, parked in the van.

"Okay, give me the full story. You can't hold anything back." He shifts uncomfortably and then speaks.

"About a year ago, one of my employees - Hartley Rathaway," Wells spits the name, "warned me that there was a chance the particle accelerator could explode."

"How did you respond?"

"I fired him," he answers matter of fact. I raise my eyebrows.

"This is not good," I mutter, more to myself than him, but he winces. "Sorry," I add.

"No, I need your honesty. I came to you because I need someone I can trust to handle this." I try to ignore the warmth blossoming in my chest from his words.

"Okay - did you tell him why he was fired?"

"No, he was at-will."

"And does he know if you did or didn't take any actions to verify his findings? Or try to take preventative measures?"

"He couldn't speak to it one way or the other, no," he says, his expression lightening somewhat.

"Then you know what to do," I say, "so long as none of your other employees will try to contradict that information." He nods once. We talk through a variety of other issues - ways to couch the information, frame the timing of his confession - and we settle upon framing it as an initiative to heal the city and the break of trust, which rolls nicely into the scholarship initiative. I also talk him through some body language tips and give him practice answering some tough questions. We're wrapping up with about thirty minutes to spare.

"Where's the press conference being held?" I ask.

"At the police station. It's the only place we could set up on such short notice. And I thought it could be seen as having their support."

"Perhaps. It might not be the best idea to have people associating you with the police at this point - it raises the thoughts of criminal activity. Could you announce an initiative to lend STAR labs resources to the police? Have you worked with them in an official capacity?"

"We work with Detective West a good deal but only unofficially."

"You worked with them for the Mercury Labs case - though that wasn't strictly a success...I'd say something to the effect of 'we have been working with police to help on cases where our scientific expertise can lend a role, and we intend to focus our resources on those efforts. We are devoted to protecting the citizens of this city and strengthening the men and women who serve the city.'" He nods.

"That's perfect. Thank you for your help."

"Anytime," I tell him. He starts the car and drives towards my office. "So," I say, cautiously at first, "is this the same person who broke your windows last night?" Tight-lipped, he nods. "And that's why you didn't want the police involved - you didn't want them digging around and discovering what he is blackmailing you with?"

"Yes. Though they're involved anyways - one of my neighbors called the police."

"Good," I say with some bitterness, remembering our argument. "They should be involved. He tried to hurt you. And if you can prove he attached you, that will seriously discredit any accusations he tries to bring forward," I add. He looks at me, taking his eyes off the road for far longer than seems safe. "What?" I ask.

"You're brilliant," he says, a degree of wonder in his voice. I have to stop myself from startling at his sincerity. I feel a deep blush across my cheeks.

"Thank you," I say simply. We're at my building. "Good luck," I say while hopping the van. Back in my office, I open a tab on my computer to the CCPN website, which is promises to livestream the event. Nervously, I count down the minutes until Wells appears on screen. But as soon as he starts speaking, my concerns for him evaporate - his time out of the limelight has not addled his charisma. The longer he talks, with his self-deprecating smile and easy manner that still bespeaks his intelligence, the more I want to forgive all of his sins. Halfway through, it's clear that he'll be just fine, so I have to switch back to doing my actual job.

About fifteen minutes later I get a text from him. "Did you watch?"

"Part of it. You did a good job."

"All thanks to you," he replies.

He sure knows how to get himself out of the doghouse, I think with a smile.

"You're too kind."

"Can you come by the lab tonight? No pressure."

I hesitate, unsure if I want to be alone with him again just yet - I'm still trying to wrap my head around Wells' announcement today.

"Just to talk," another text reads.

"Alright," I reply, unable to bring myself to care if this is a bad idea.

When I arrive, I knock on the coretex wall as I enter, finding the whole gang assembled. Cisco is working at a station, Wells is talking with him, while Caitlyn and Barry relax at the console.

"Mika, great to see you," Barry says in his friendly, easy-going way.

"Good to see you too - how are things going?"

"Stellar. We're waiting for our least-favorite former coworker, who spent the afternoon attacking us, to come back for blood," Caitlyn answers. I raise my eyebrows.

"Someone catch me up?"

Cailtyn fills in the details of their history with this Hartley character, and Barry chimes in with his own observations about Hartley's personality. As we're chatting, a voice sounds out over the speakers, taunting Harrison and "the Flash." Immediately, the group springs to action, trying to pinpoint Hartley's location.

"He's at the Keystone-Cleveland City dam," I say, the words coming out of my mouth before I fully comprehend them. Barry nods his thanks and speeds off. My gaze moves to Wells, noticing the shine of admiration in his eyes, before he refocuses on the computer screen to track Barry's movements. A few seconds later, we can hear the sound of explosions as Barry arrives on the scene. I listen with anxiety to the fight. The team begins putting together why Hartley broke into STAR Labs, and a sudden alarm sounds in my head. I leap for the microphone.

"No, Barry, don't pull off his-" my warning is drowned out by a piercing sound, and Wells immediately springs into action. It's an honor to watch his brilliant mind work. As Wells punches in the keys that will save Barry's life and take down his former protegee, who must be the same man who was threatening to go public with the information about the particle accelerator, I can feel his troubled emotions. On instinct, I rest a hand on his shoulder, wishing I could do more to comfort him.

He looks up at me, smiling sadly, and covers my hand with his own. Suddenly, I remember the others are in the room, and I pull away. They both seemed too preoccupied with wrapping up the loose ends with Hartley to notice the moment of affection between Wells and I, but I feel self conscious all the same. I wait around until Barry comes back since I'm curious to see how the team coordinates locking up a bad guy, and I'm trying to be a more integrated part of the team.

Once Barry returns and Hartley is safely locked away, I was planning to head out, but Wells shoots me a text that simply says, "Stay."

So I stay.


End file.
